by Lynn Kerstan
AN HOUR LATER, Fallon sat stone-faced on a teetery wooden chair, drinking the tea Agathy had insisted on brewing and pretending not to mind that the two adult females in the room had forgot his very existence.
Heads bent together over the infant’s basket, Jane and the plump, bran-faced housekeeper sat just beyond earshot, gabbing away as if they’d known each other for a lifetime. Meantime, and solely because Jane had expected him to charge in like an aristocratic bull, Fallon remained where he was put, fully resolved to be as patient and diplomatic as . . . well, somebody famous for being patient and diplomatic.
He was not altogether sure how she had convinced him to bring her along. Indeed, it was more likely she kindly permitted him to accompany her. “You may lead the horse,” she’d told him as if conferring a great honor, and before he knew it, that was precisely what he was doing. With Jed bouncing alongside and Jane atop Scorpio with the babe in her arms, they had crossed the snowy fields to Agathy’s cottage without incident—if he discounted the time he stumbled up to his waist in a gully.
Agathy was, he thought, very much like the squat thatched cottage she shared with young Jed. Except for a pair of sharp brown eyes, her face and body were distinctly bovine. He had almost expected her to moo when she was rumbling about, brewing up the tea and watching him cautiously, as if he were a wolf that had wandered into her grazing pasture. She had the look of someone in service all her life, and the strength of one who had seen and endured the worst life could serve up.
At long last Agathy broke away from Jane and lowered herself onto a three-legged stool, turning her impassive gaze in his direction.
He shot a “Help me!” glance at Jane, who only shrugged before returning her attention to the child. Jed was sitting cross-legged by the fire, devouring a hunk of buttered bread.
Well, dammit, somebody had to get to the point. “Who does that child belong to?” he demanded.
Agathy never blinked. “She belongs to nobody, exceptin’ those who will take ’er in.”
“Well, then,” he persisted, “who were the nobodies that left her in the snow last night? Her parents, obviously, but where have they gone?”
“You got it all wrong, m’lord. And I ain’t free to set you clear.” She emitted a heavy sigh. “Me and Jedediah done promised to keep a watch on the babe and bring ’er here if’n you turned ’er off. Mind you, I can’t raise ’er meself, bein’ old like I am. When I took in Jedediah, ’e weren’t no more than a toddler, but back then there was work to be had. Now we got nothin’. If you mean to leave the babe with us, we’ll go to Chelmsford when the winter’s done and find a home what cares fer orphans.”
“That will not be necessary,” he said curtly. “The child belongs with her family. If they abandoned her for lack of housing or employment, I shall provide whatever they need to raise her properly. But you must tell me where to find them.”
“’Er got no mama or papa to be found, m’lord, and that’s a fact. She be all alone in the world.”
“I see.” Damn! This was not, as he had hoped, a simple matter of tracking down the babe’s parents, compelling them to take her back, and giving them the means to do so. He set his teacup on the floor and circled the small room twice, wondering how to proceed.
Agathy might as well have been chewing her cud from the placid expression on her doughy face. She had said all she was going to say, unless he could find some way to prod her. For that matter, where was Jane Ryder when he needed her? Why insist on coming here if she didn’t mean to help? Hell, she could cozen the truth from this recalcitrant old woman without batting an eyelash.
But he had told her that he could handle the situation, and she was, quite perversely, leaving him to do it.
Hands clasped tightly behind his back, he stomped to the center of the room and planted himself in front of Agathy. “You don’t trust me,” he said bluntly. “I cannot blame you. No one who knew my father would place the slightest confidence in his heir. Nevertheless, I appeal to your concern for the child, for she is the only one who matters now. Help me do what is best for her.”
Silence.
Agathy’s steady, penetrating gaze all but stripped him naked. Holding his ground, he drew in a long, prayerful breath. “Please, madam. I am asking for your help.”
Finally she brushed her hands on her apron. “The Fallons is devils. They killed the land and drove the people what cared for it away. But yer wife is kindly, I reckon, and happen she can hold you steady.”
“She will,” he affirmed, not daring to look at Jane.
“Like I said, me ’n Jed is bound to hold our tongues. But I’ll go one step the wrong way, may the Lord forgive me, and give over this much of what I’m sworn not to tell. You needs to be askin’ your questions of Richard Barrow, m’lord. He was the one what put the babe inter your protection.”
At last! With effort, he steadied his voice. “Where can I find him?”
“Dunno that you can. ’E’s a seaman. Went off in a rush to Portsmouth to catch ’is ship. If it’s gone by now, so is ’e.”
Fallon pulled out his watch. Only twelve hours since Barrow left the child and set out, and Portsmouth was eighty miles distant. No sailor could afford to hire fresh horses on the journey, so there was still a good chance of overtaking him. “What ship?” he demanded, already itching to be on the chase.
Agathy rubbed her chin. “Don’t recollect ’e ever said.”
“I knows!” Jed sprang to his feet. “’E told me all what it’s like, seein’ the world. She’s named the Virga. Ships is females,” he added wisely. “That’s cuz they’d go ever’ which way without good men to ’andle ’em. Richard told me that women needs—”
“That will do, Jed,” Jane interrupted before he could spell out what it was that women needed. “Agathy, will you hold the babe while I speak privately with his lordship?”
“I mean to catch that ship,” Fallon said as he followed her outside. “Don’t try to talk me out of it.”
“As if I could. But before you leave, we must decide where Nan and I are to stay while you are gone.”
“Who?”
“The infant,” she said patiently. “Agathy told me her name.”
“Oh.” He tried it on his tongue. “Nan. Not much of a name, Nan.”
She laughed. “That’s very much what Lady Swann said to me when I introduced myself. ‘Jane. Not much of a name, Jane.’”
“I’m exceptionally partial to Jane,” he said reflectively. “May I have your permission to use it when we are private together?”
What an odd thing to ask under the circumstances. But then, there would be few if any occasions for him to do so, once this extraordinary adventure was concluded. “As you wish, sir.”
“Thank you.” His brow knitted in a frown. “You and Agathy have been thick as thieves all morning. Did she tell you anything else I ought to know?”
“Nothing of importance.” She put a hand on his sleeve. “If you hope to catch up with Mr. Barrow, we must move quickly. Jed can lead you to the inn, because I’m sure you’ll want to stop there for a change of clothes. Oh dear. I wonder if your valet ever arrived with the luggage.”
“Never mind that. We will go to the inn, of course. You will be safe there until my return, with all those Wilkenses to look after you and the ba—Nan. Or do you wish me to arrange transportation to London?”
And here it was. Jane cleared her throat, steeling herself to deal with his objections. “If you don’t mind, sir, I greatly prefer to stay at the dower house. Jed can bring supplies on his sled, as he does for Agathy, and I expect he’ll agree to remain overnight.”
“Out of the question! I will not leave you in that ramshackle house with only a pair of children for company. What if there’s another storm?”
“Then we’ll bring the goat inside and cozy up by the fire. B
ut if it makes you feel more at ease, my lord, send one of the Wilkens lads to stay with us. And have him bring my portmanteau, if you will. I’ll be glad of something clean to wear.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Why the dower house, Jane? It makes no sense.”
“I am persuaded it does, my lord, for a great many small reasons. Shall I put them out for debate, or would you prefer to be on your way without a row?”
“I prefer,” he said between his teeth, “for you to obey me. But I am also realistic. The dower house it is, and from there I’ll go with Jed to the inn and dispatch food, portmanteau, and the brawniest of Rollin Wilkens’s sons for protection. Have I forgot anything?”
“Don’t forget to shave,” she said, smiling. “Set foot on the docks with that sinister beard and a press gang will cart you off to His Majesty’s Royal Navy.”
“I won’t even ask how you know so much about the docks, Jane Ryder. And before you offer more needless advice, I promise not to bully the truth from Richard Barrow when I catch up with him. I, too, have been a common sailor, and we speak the same language.”
“You will be the soul of tact, I am sure. But come, sir. We have much to do before you gallop off to Portsmouth. If you will fetch Scorpio, I’ll rally Jed and Nan.”
As he headed to the tree where he’d secured the horse, Jane stole a long, loving look at his back. Such a good man.
She would try hard not to hope he failed to reach Portsmouth before Richard Barrow sailed away, carrying Nan’s secrets with him to stay forever hidden, please God. No one could possibly want the child so much, or love her more, than she already did.
Dare she dream, this Christmas morning, that Nan had been delivered into her hands for a reason? Could this miracle hold true?
Chapter 14
THREE DAYS after departing for Portsmouth, Fallon arrived back at the Black Dove Inn.
He stopped only long enough for a bath and a change of clothes, relieved to learn that all was well with Jane and the child. The Wilkenses were clearly besotted with Nan. The boys had taken turns carting Mrs. Wilkens’s fresh bread, steak-and-kidney pies, and rabbit stew to the house, while the girls had sewn new gowns and caps for the baby.
Rollin Wilkens drew him aside just before he climbed atop Scorpio for the last stage of his journey. If no one else wanted the precious lamb, he said earnestly, the Wilkens family would be happy to take her in.
Although Fallon had ridden neck-or-nothing to Portsmouth and almost as swiftly on the return, pausing only to change horses and, once, to grab a few hours of sleep, he took the last few miles at a walk.
He had always considered himself a man of decisive action, but it seemed forever that his mind had been turning cartwheels, examining the situation from every possible angle. And when he approached the dower house, he was no closer to finding an answer than when he first understood the nature of the problem.
What was he to tell Jane? How was he to tell her?
Above all, what was he to do?
Jed was in the stable playing with the goat when Fallon led Scorpio inside. He rushed over to take the reins, his freckled face blazing with excitement. “Miz Jane sez I c’n keep the goat, if’n you sez yes. I named ’er Peg. I do all the milkin’ now, ’n’ feed ’er, and clean the stall. C’n I ave ’er, yer lordship? Pleeeeze?”
Good Lord, what next? With a shrug, Fallon began to unsaddle the horse. “I see no reason why not, once Peg is free of her current duties.”
“Miz Jane sez there’s no place in Lunnon fer a goat,” Jed informed him. “An’ if Peg lives with me ’n’ Agathy, I won’t be needin’ to fetch milk from Rumford.”
“We’ll see, young man.” Fallon tossed the saddle over the stall gate. “How are things at the house? Have there been any difficulties?”
“No sir. ’Ceptin’ Miz Jane makes me . . . well, she sed Claude Wilkens wuz too clumsy and she ’ad to sleep sumtimes, so she taught me ter . . .” He shuddered.
“I believe I get the picture, Jed. You have all my sympathy.”
“Ain’t so bad when I ’old m’nose, but I needs both ’ands to tie the knots. An’ sumtimes Nan poops agin afore I’s even done. Miz Jane sez it’s never too soon fer a man to learn, sir, but I been thinkin’ it’s the females what’s supposed to do them jobs.”
“An opinion I heartily share. But here’s another lesson for you, Jed. Females have a way of getting a man to do whatever they want him to do. Things no man ever thought about doing, things he was sure he’d never do—until he finds himself doing them. You may as well get used to it.”
“Oh, I ’spect t’go to sea one day, m’lord. No females there.”
“Not a one,” Fallon agreed. Jed would discover soon enough that there was another side to that coin. A lonely side. “Give Scorpio a good rubdown, will you?”
“Yessir.” Jed shifted from one foot to the other. “Did y’find ’im, m’lord?”
“I did.”
“Then y’know ’bout Nan. An’ the rest.”
“Yes. I believe, too, that I’ve put his mind at ease concerning the child, so it’s as well that Agathy gave me his name and direction.” He smiled. “I assured Mr. Barrow that you kept your word to him, Jed. He said he expected nothing less of you.”
“I allus keep m’word. That’s what tells the gentl’men from the scoundrels, Agathy sez.”
Fallon put his hands on the boy’s narrow shoulders. “I want you to go on keeping it, Jed.”
He nodded wisely. “I unnerstands, m’lord. You kin trus’ me.”
“So I do. And I wish to be private with Miss Jane for the next hour or two, so if any Wilkenses show up—”
“I’ll ’ead ’em off, sir.”
As he left the stable, Fallon realized that Richard Barrow and Master Jed, commoners both, were two of the most honorable gentlemen he had ever met.
When he let himself into the house, a cold sweat broke out on his forehead at the thought of what awaited him. He leaned against the closed door to gather his wits.
They refused to be gathered.
Finally deciding he could stand there well into the next millennium without any better idea how to proceed, he ordered his feet to take him to the parlor.
They had carried him only a short way down the passageway when he heard the sound of giggling and a soprano voice singing decidedly off-key. He paused at the open parlor door and looked inside.
Jane, her long hair tied back with a green ribbon to match her dress, was holding Nan under her little arms and swooping her up and down as she twirled around the room. “Nan’s a bird,” she sang, dipping and swaying, the babe giggling deliriously. “Nan’s a bird. Nan can fly, she can, she can. Nan’s a flying bird.”
Her whirling dance carried her toward the door, still singing until she glanced up and met his eyes. She stumbled to a halt then, and drew Nan into a protective embrace. The babe squealed in protest. “Sh-she likes the flying game,” Jane said as Nan’s squeal turned into a wail.
“I can see that.” Heart pounding, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “And so do you.”
At the sound of his voice, Nan stopped crying and turned in his direction, flailing her arms. “Ga! Ga ga ga ga!”
Rather sure that ga was her private word for nose, Fallon kept his own well out of reach as he came closer, offering her a finger to tug on instead. She immediately brought it to her mouth and began sucking.
This close to Jane, her wide hazel eyes regarding him solemnly, or perhaps fearfully, he felt a swarm of unfamiliar emotions rush over him. His vision blurred and his tongue tied itself into a knot. What to say? Oh God, Jane, what am I to do?
Gently she pried his finger from Nan’s mouth. “You found Richard Barrow, my lord?”
He nodded.
“Well, then, I expect you’ve
a great deal to tell me. And you must be very tired. Claude Wilkens once traveled to Portsmouth, and he assured me you could not possibly return before tomorrow night. But then, he does not know you well.” She smiled. “I had him fetch another bottle of brandy from Wolvercote, by the way. It’s over there on the sideboard. Or would you rather I brewed some coffee?”
He nodded. He couldn’t seem to force himself to do more than that. Bless Jane for understanding, for clearly she did.
With dazzling efficiency, she soon had Nan settled peacefully in her basket and him out of his greatcoat and seated by the fire with his feet propped on a footstool. She placed the open bottle of brandy and a glass on a small table by his side.
He could not begin to imagine what she was thinking. Her expression remained calm, her manner unruffled, and gradually he let himself relax because she wanted him to. She even said so, very softly, as she put a cushion behind his head.
“Do relax, my lord, while I prepare the coffee. Would you like something to eat?”
He shook his head.
“Just as well,” she said, patting his sleeve. “This morning I had another go at baking gingerbread men, but even Jed could not choke them down. I mean to save them, though. More roof tiles for Wolvercote.”
When she was gone, he poured a glass of brandy with shaking hands and sipped it slowly, heat burning down his throat as he stared into the fire.
“Ga,” Nan proclaimed from her basket.
Ga indeed. It won’t be so easy, he thought, when you have heard the truth. Will you speak to me then, Nan? Will you grab my nose and suck my finger when you know who I am? Or will I ever tell you?
IN THE KITCHEN, Jane placed sugar and a dish of fresh cream on the tray beside the pot of coffee, belatedly remembered the napkins, and closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself.
Lord Fallon had something unpleasant to tell her, she knew. No, not unpleasant. Something horrible, something that had shuttered his eyes and made him wary of looking at her. Something that wrenched at his heart.
