by Turano, Jen
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I loathe them, but Precious—that’s truly her name—isn’t mine. She belongs to a Mrs. Fish, and that lady’s growing quite distraught over the idea her cat has yet to be found. Why, I expect if I maintain possession of Precious for another couple of days, the reward Mrs. Fish keeps increasing for its safe return will be up to at least five hundred dollars.”
“You stole Precious in order to claim a reward?”
“Hmm . . . would you believe I just happened to discover this cat in my carriage, and that I didn’t have the slightest idea Mrs. Fish was so attached to the creature?”
“I thought you said you’d put your thieving ways behind you?”
“I said for the most part, but if you must know, Precious here was just a little too tempting for me to resist.”
“Give me the cat.”
“I most certainly will not. I have bills to pay, and this little darling is an easy way to pay them.”
Reaching over, Harriet plucked Precious away from Jane and settled the now purring cat on her lap. “She obviously likes me more, but enough about the cat. What is so important that you felt it necessary to go through such extreme measures to get my attention?”
“I wouldn’t have had to resort to such trying means if you’d only had the courtesy to acknowledge that letter I left for you.”
“I didn’t read your letter.”
“Then you really can’t complain about your current situation, can you? Since you didn’t bother to read what I wrote—which was quite rude of you, by the way—I’ll tell you what the letter said. I want you to come and work for me.”
“Didn’t we have this exact same conversation last year on my birthday, and . . . didn’t I make myself perfectly clear when I said I wasn’t interested in joining forces with you because I’m not really keen on illegal activities?”
“Oh, you made yourself clear, Harriet, but the last time we spoke, you were mostly uncomfortable with the idea of stealing for me. You’ll be happy to know I’ve moved on to a more lucrative business, one where I’m rarely dealing in tangible goods.” She leaned forward. “However, now that you’ve somehow managed to get yourself involved with high society, I’ve come up with the most wonderful of plans, one that will finally allow you to pay me back for everything I’ve done for you over the years.”
Harriet’s mouth dropped open. “Pardon me?”
“You’ve evidently put aside those pesky moral convictions you always stood behind, and I couldn’t be more delighted about that. But you really should have sought out my counsel when you decided to try your hand at scheming. You don’t have the experience to pull off a scheme effortlessly, and I would hate to see you land yourself in jail.”
“We are obviously having two different conversations here, Jane. What, pray tell, are you talking about?”
“You . . . following in my footsteps, of course. As I mentioned before, I was flabbergasted to learn you’d gone to live with Mrs. Charles Hart. But when Martin discovered the gentleman you were riding with in that carriage Miss Plum was driving was none other than Mr. Oliver Addleshaw, well . . . it almost brought me to tears.”
A hiss of protest from the cat had Harriet relaxing the death grip she’d taken on it. “You’ve heard about Mr. Addleshaw?”
Jane’s lips thinned. “Not much, other than he’s been seen coming and going from Mrs. Hart’s house, and that the two of you were seen shopping together at Arnold Constable & Company. I don’t currently have informants in houses owned by members of the true quality, but I do believe, given Mr. Addleshaw’s obvious interest in you, that may be about to change.”
“Did you ever consider that he may simply be a good friend of Mrs. Hart?”
“You really shouldn’t doubt my intelligence, Harriet. Gentlemen don’t escort ladies shopping unless there’s a very good reason behind it. At first I thought you may have agreed to become the man’s mistress, but then . . . that didn’t make any sense, because Mr. Addleshaw certainly wouldn’t take his mistress to the leading department store in the city. It’s driving me mad, trying to figure out what confidence scheme you’re actually perpetuating, which is why I felt compelled to track you down today. Quite honestly, if you hadn’t been so kind as to leave the safety of Mrs. Hart’s house, I was actually considering marching up to the door and demanding to speak with you.”
“I’m sure that would have provided everyone with a bit of amusement—you trying to take on Mrs. Hart—but back to this confidence scheme idea. Don’t you remember me telling you last year that I’m of the firm belief God wants me to live a good life? I highly doubt He’d consider my participating in a confidence scheme to be an acceptable way of living honorably.”
Releasing a snort, Jane waved a hand in the air. “Yes, yes, I remember that nonsense about your God and what He wants for you, but tell me . . . if you’re not scheming, what exactly are you doing with Mr. Addleshaw?”
“It’s really none of your concern.”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, my pet. My business of choice these days is collecting information, and if you now find yourself in the midst of society, I can use that to my advantage. And again, you owe me.”
Harriet frowned. “You’re blackmailing people now?”
“Exactly, and I wanted you to join me while you were working in that hat shop, because you must have been privy to juicy gossip overheard from customers. But . . . since you’re apparently no longer employed there, there’s no reason to discuss that particular plan.”
“There’s no reason to talk blackmail at all, since I’m not going to help you with whatever mad scenario you’ve come up with.”
Jane waved Harriet’s words away with a single flick of her wrist. “Tell me, do you happen to know where Mrs. Hart keeps her safe?”
“Why would I want to know where Mrs. Hart’s safe is located?”
“Don’t be coy, Harriet. It doesn’t become you.”
“I’m not intending to steal from Mrs. Hart.”
“How very noble, but again, do you know the location of her safe?”
“I’d like to get out of the carriage now.”
“We’re not done talking.”
“I have nothing left to say to you.”
Jane leaned forward. “I’ll let you out as soon as you explain to my satisfaction what you’re doing with Mr. Addleshaw.”
“He’s my fiancé.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Harriet knew she’d made a dreadful mistake.
Jane’s face was beginning to mottle, her freckles were standing out in high relief, and her eyes had turned to green shards of ice. “You’re lying.”
“I assure you, I’m not.”
For a second, Harriet thought Jane was going to launch herself at her, but then her aunt gripped the seat with both hands, drew in a deep breath, slowly released it, drew in another, and then began to speak, far too calmly. “May I assume he’s taken with your beauty?”
“I’m fairly certain he’s more taken with my wit.”
“You’re beginning to wear on my patience.”
“As you are on mine,” Harriet retorted. “I’ve now told you the truth about Mr. Addleshaw and would like to get out of this carriage. Obviously, I’m not following in your footsteps, which means you, my dear aunt, need to leave me alone from this point forward.”
“Not until I’m given some type of compensation for raising you.” Jane tapped a gloved finger against her chin. “Since blackmail seems to be beneath you, as does stealing, I’ll make this easy on you. You’re going to introduce me into society.”
“How would you expect me to do that?”
“If what you claim is true, that you’re really engaged to Mr. Oliver Addleshaw, it won’t be difficult for you to introduce your loving aunt to the New York Four Hundred. I’ve never been given an opportunity such as this before, or at least not in quite some time, and since, again, you owe me, I’m sure you can grant me this one tiny favor.”
/> “Absolutely not.”
Jane narrowed her eyes. “That’s unfortunate, especially since I now have no choice but to blackmail you.”
“What could you possibly blackmail me with?”
“I’m sure you won’t want your darling Mr. Addleshaw to learn anything about your mother.”
“We’ll leave my mother out of this, thank you very much.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’d love to, but a man of Mr. Addleshaw’s social position will clearly not want to discover that his fiancée is illegitimate and . . . that her mother was actually nothing more than some man’s mistress.”
“You will watch your tongue in regard to my mother.”
“I’m only speaking the truth,” Jane said. “Your mother used her good looks to snag the attention of a wealthy gentleman—or gentlemen, I should say—although, unlike you, she never managed to procure a proposal. Unfortunately, she very rudely up and died after giving birth to you, and since I had no idea who your father was, I got stuck raising you. For that, I deserve compensation.”
Pain tore through Harriet as her aunt’s hateful words settled in. Jane had mentioned once before that her mother had a bit of a shady past, but she’d neglected to mention anything about numerous men.
A snap of Jane’s fingers in front of her face had Harriet pushing aside her troubling thoughts.
“So what’s it going to be? Me blackmailing you, or you choosing to introduce me into society as your loving aunt?”
Unexpected tears stung her eyes, and Harriet turned to look out the window as she tried to hold them at bay. Fresh pain settled in her heart, the reasoning behind that pain suddenly becoming crystal clear.
Her aunt was a despicable woman—of that there was no denying—and yet she was the only mother figure Harriet had ever known. A piece of Harriet, a piece she’d never once acknowledged, had apparently been holding out a small smidgen of hope that her aunt actually cared about her, loved her in some small way. She knew that was a foolish thought, especially since it couldn’t be true, not with her aunt threatening her with blackmail, but . . .
Blinking away the last of her tears, Harriet pulled her gaze from the window and settled it on Jane. “Have you ever cared about me?”
“What a ridiculous question.”
“It’s not so ridiculous, considering you’re my only living relative.”
“You’re being very annoying, and . . .” Jane’s words trailed off right as her eyes began to gleam in a rather disturbing manner. She stared at Harriet for a good second, then pushed up from the seat, sat down again right beside Harriet, and ignoring the hiss the cat sent her way, proceeded to take Harriet’s hand in hers.
Jane gave the hand a rather tight squeeze before she smiled. “Is that what’s truly bothering you, my pet? You don’t think I care about your well-being?”
Jane’s touch sent a shiver of what felt remarkably like revulsion through Harriet, and she resisted the urge to scoot closer to the window. “Threatening me with blackmail can hardly be taken as a sign of affection.”
“I know it must seem to you that I don’t always care, but I’ve never been an overly demonstrative person, and being given the responsibility of your care did place a large burden on me. I can clearly tell my lack of expressing to you my . . . er . . . love . . . has hurt you no small amount, but do know that I hold you in deepest affection and really want only the best for you.”
Although Jane’s words were something Harriet had evidently been longing to hear for a long time, the malice the woman couldn’t conceal in her eyes gave Harriet the unvarnished truth.
Jane hated her, had probably always hated her, but instead of causing another ache in her heart, Harriet felt only relief.
Perhaps God wasn’t put out with her after all. Maybe He had allowed her the opportunity of this daunting meeting with Jane to help Harriet discover the true measure of the woman who’d raised her. Perhaps He’d done so to finally set her free from any childish hopes she’d been harboring, and . . .
“Feeling better now, my pet, since we’ve squared away my feelings for you?” Jane asked.
“Strangely enough, I am.”
Squeezing Harriet’s hand one last time, Jane released it and moved back to the opposite seat. “Wonderful . . . and you’ll agree to introduce me to society?”
Swallowing the immediate “no” that had been on the tip of her tongue, Harriet forced a smile instead before she dropped her head and gave her attention to the cat, stalling in order to collect her thoughts.
Her aunt was dangerous—of that there could be no doubt—and Jane wasn’t likely to put her latest desire to be introduced to society aside easily. The one thing Harriet knew with absolute certainty was that she was going to have to come clean with Oliver the moment she got away from Jane. He needed to be warned about her aunt, needed to warn others in society about Jane as well, but . . . she needed more time to come up with a way to thwart her aunt once and for all, so that her friends would be safe and she could go about living a respectable life.
Lifting her chin, she nodded, earning a blink of the eyes from Jane in the process. “Because you have taken very good care of me over the years, and you hold me in great affection, I’ll do it.”
“You’ll introduce me to society?” Jane asked slowly.
“I’ll introduce you to everyone in society I’m fortune enough to become friends with, but . . . you’re going to have to wait for me to get a foothold in the door so to speak before I make any introductions.” She leaned back against the seat. “I’ll need a good month to do that, two at the most.”
Silence settled over them as Jane stared back at Harriet—and then she nodded. “Very well, I’ll give you a month to charm your way into the highest circles, but I expect you to be paving the way for me as you charm. Little mentions of your doting aunt will go far in preparing society for my entrance. However, if you get invited to any of those delicious society balls, you’re to contact me immediately, because that would be the perfect opportunity for me to . . . Well, I’m sure you can figure out where I plan to go from there.”
“It’s June, Jane. Society has slowed to a stop here in the city, with most people currently in Europe or having their houses closed down while they go off to Newport or Saratoga Springs for the summer. There won’t be many balls in my immediate future.”
“But . . . if there are . . . you’ll get me invited?”
“I’ll get you invited to all the balls I’m invited to once the social season starts up in the fall.”
“You’re being a little evasive, my pet, which I find somewhat troubling.” Jane’s eyes narrowed. “Do know that I’ll make your life miserable if you’re lying to me.”
Since Harriet knew she’d be far removed from society in a month and would be able to call exactly zero society members friends after she and Oliver parted ways—except for Mrs. Hart, who was probably more than capable of taking on Jane—she was completely at ease with what she’d offered her aunt. Leaning forward over the cat, she smiled. “That hardly sounded very affectionate, Aunt Jane.”
Jane didn’t bother to respond but instead thumped the tip of her parasol against the roof of the carriage. “I think this little meeting between us has been rather productive, so now I’m going to allow you an opportunity to put our plan into action.”
“I told you, I need a month and you agreed to that.”
“Of course I agreed, darling, but I’d like you to at least tell Mr. Addleshaw about me, because that would put . . .” Jane continued speaking, her words traveling in one of Harriet’s ears and directly out the other as she went on and on about what lovely things Harriet could tell Oliver about her.
When the carriage began to slow, Harriet peered out the window, irritation running over her when she noticed they were stopping, not in front of Abigail’s house, but Oliver’s. “I think your driver delivered me to the wrong house.”
Craning her neck, Jane glanced out the window as well. “Oh no, this is where
I told him to end up.” She smiled. “I thought I was going to have to be more forceful getting your cooperation, so I intended to . . . Well, no need to explain that since it’s ancient history now. Do use some of those suggestions I just gave you to explain me to your Mr. Addleshaw, and I’ll check in on your progress soon.”
“I can’t go up and knock on Mr. Addleshaw’s door. It’s hardly proper behavior.”
“If he’s truly infatuated with you, he’ll be delighted you’ve come to call, and I want to ascertain that you’re really engaged. Engaged ladies often pay visits to their future husbands.”
“No they don’t.”
Jane arched a brow right as the door opened and Martin thrust a beefy hand Harriet’s way. Ignoring his hand, she clutched the cat closer to her and moved to get out of the carriage.
“I will need the cat back.”
Brushing past Martin, who seemingly only stepped aside because Precious had started hissing, Harriet turned after her feet were firmly on the sidewalk. “The cat is coming with me.”
“But what about my reward?”
Pretending not to hear her, Harriet swiveled on her heel and began walking for the front door. When she traveled out of earshot of her aunt, she leaned closer to Precious. “I can only hope, Precious, that Jane will, someday, get the reward she so richly deserves.”
16
Closing the desk drawer on business papers Oliver knew he wouldn’t have a chance to look over again in the foreseeable future, he leaned back in his chair. Impatience spread through him as he regarded Mr. Bambini, who’d arrived unannounced a short time before, the man proclaiming he had a matter of utmost importance to discuss. Considering the gentleman was currently twirling his large mustache over his finger, but had yet to state the reason for the visit, Oliver wasn’t exactly certain the matter was of an urgent nature. “May I assume there’s a problem with the deal we closed yesterday?” he finally asked when Mr. Bambini remained irritatingly mute.
The twirling stopped. “I wouldn’t say there’s exactly a problem, more of a complication, if you will. I simply wanted to take this opportunity to explain my side of the story before your . . .”
