“So I hear you two were able to catch up at the ball?” Lord Marlington, or rather, Tom, asked Jane as he gestured between her and John.
“A little,” she admitted, glancing at John from beneath her lashes.
“He never mentioned you were shy, Miss Watson,” Tom replied as he guffawed. “Has the boy lied to me?”
“Tom,” John warned the old man.
“He told me you were quick and clever and very strong willed. Wise beyond your years, I think he said, too.” Lord Marlington looked at her with an appraising eye. “Was he right is his assessment?”
“Mr. Christopherson has been very kind if he told you those things about me,” Jane replied demurely. “But surely I cannot confirm or deny them. If I deny them, then I am just doing it for show? And if I confirm them, then I must be awfully full of myself.”
“Well reasoned, Miss Watson. You have just confirmed that he was correct in describing you as quick and clever,” Lord Marlington complimented while John grinned to himself from the corner. “He also told me you were the one who taught him to read as well as mathematics. And that it was your sister, Lady Wembley, who taught you.”
Jane looked down at her hands and flushed. She was not comfortable with the praise Lord Marlington gave her on John’s behalf. Furthermore, she did not want to say anything on this particular subject to embarrass John.
So, it was Cat who spoke. “I did not know that, Jane,” she said, while holding Georgie in her lap. “You never told me you shared your lessons with Mr. Christopherson.”
Finally, John spoke from his seat. “Please do not be upset with your sister, Lady Wembley. Without her instruction, I would never have learned. I would not know the joys of getting lost in a book nor would I have the position I do now with Lord Marlington.”
Cat smiled at him genuinely. “I am sorry if I spoke too quickly. But you misunderstand me. There is no judgement, simply ignorance on my part. She never told me. And I thought my sister told me everything.” Her eyes twinkled.
“I am certain if she did keep it from you, it was to spare me any embarrassment of my situation. I was older than her and was woefully uneducated with no one to teach me. Perhaps she was thinking of my pride,” John replied humbly.
“She can speak for herself,” Jane stated when at last there was a pause in the conversation. “No, I never told you, Cat. I should have, but I did not. I worried that you would put a stop to the lessons and I thought they were important.”
Cat set a wiggling Georgie on the floor. He could not be contained in her arms, so she would let him toddle about and hopefully tire enough for a nap. “I am not angry with you, Jane. I do wish you would have told me because I would not have put a stop to the lessons. I would have invited John to join in yours.”
Jane smiled gratefully at her sister. “Well, I probably absorbed more anyway since I had to go through everything twice.”
“Marvelous,” Lord Marlington declared. “I must say, Lord Wembley, Lady Wembley, you are fortunate to have such a marvelous family. And John mentioned you have another tyke besides young George here.”
“Yes,” Ben replied proudly. “But he agreed to his nap today. George here would not sleep no matter what we tried. I am glad to see you do not mind a child joining our afternoon.”
“Mind!” Lord Marlington chortled. “Why, I find children a delight.” He sobered a little as he continued, “It is my great regret that I did not have more, especially after losing my boy.” He had to stop and clear his throat. “But now I have John, who is as much like a son to me as anyone could ever be.”
John was a bit agog at this statement. Though he knew it to be true, it was not like Tom to be so open with his feelings, especially with people he had just met.
“Who would have thought when I first wrote that letter asking if he would be interested in a position in my business that he would end up heir to it all?” Tom continued.
Jane’s gaze flew up to meet John’s. It did not matter what his position was. But how could he not tell her? And why had he not contacted her to tell her of his new position when it had been John who had been so concerned with position, who had promised that someday he would be worthy of her, when she had not even asked for that?
“John did not say so at the ball,” Jane murmured at last, since it appeared as if the room was waiting for her to speak.
“Well, you know John. Perhaps even better than I do!” Lord Marlington gave his good knee a slap. “He is humble, our John. Is he not?”
He is not our John. He is yours. Not mine. Never mine. Jane could feel John’s eyes on her, waiting for a response, whether in word or expression, but she kept her face as blank as could be. Georgie proved to be an adequate distraction as he began to chant Jane’s name, wanting to be picked up. She did as he asked because at least it was something to do. But just as soon as she had done so, he was wiggling out of her arms and took off running toward both the fireplace and John.
John tried to reach him, calling, “Be careful there.” But George proved to be slippery and evaded his grasp. He tumbled against the edge of the fireplace and hit his head. Before Cat or Ben could react, John had picked him up into his own arms. “There, there now,” he whispered over the boy’s crying. “Let us see the damage.”
Cat had nearly flung herself across the room, but stopped suddenly at John’s voice and when she could see that George had not broken the skin.
John continued in the same tone of voice, “You might have a bump, but there is no blood. But you must be so scared. It is all right. It is all right,” he repeated as George quieted and curled into John’s arms. “It is all right. You are safe now.”
Jane sighed in relief, trying not to think of how natural John looked holding a baby, before noticing that her sister was pale and trembling in the middle of the room. John lifted his head from where he had tucked it against George’s to comfort him and seemed to notice, too. “I am so sorry,” he told the boy’s mother. “It was automatic. I have younger brothers so…”
“What did you say?” Cat asked, in a quiet tremulous voice. Jane knew something had to be horribly wrong for her not to go to her son immediately. Ben must have sensed the same thing because he now stood behind her, holding her shoulders.
“I have younger brothers so I am used to trying to keep them from taking a tumble and comforting them when I could not prevent it,” John repeated as Lady Wembley stared at him. Her eyes looked haunted, as if she was half in the room with them now but also someplace else, alone.
“No, not that,” she insisted quietly. “You said: It is all right. You are safe now.”
John began to look a bit uneasy as he rocked a quiet George in his arms. “I suppose I did. I am sorry if I upset you. I can give him to you. I was only thinking to comfort him.”
“You tried to save him,” Cat began again and honestly Jane had no idea what had come over her sister. She had never seen or heard her speak in such a lost way. It was as if she had seen a ghost and her sister was not a superstitious woman. “And then you comforted him. You told him it would be all right.”
“I suppose I did,” John admitted respectfully. Even Lord Marlington looked worried about Cat’s appearance. Even her lips were white.
“Cat?” Jane asked timidly. “Are you all right?”
Cat shook off her husband’s hands and her sister’s words. She continued to stare at John as if she could see into his very soul. “You told me I was safe. You told me it would be all right.”
“Cat?” Ben asked with confusion.
But now John had gone just as white in the face as Cat, his skin blanched of all color.
“You told me that after you laid me on the ground after rescuing me from the fire,” Cat whispered, brokenly, her whole body shaking. “It was you who rescued me.”
John shook his head, but not in denial. Jane knew his expressions better than that. But before she could analyze him, he was walking toward her. “Take George, please,” he whispered, his voice to
rtured. “Please. Jane.” And the fact that he would call her by her first name in mixed company had her reaching for her nephew in shock.
“John?” she asked.
He only shook his head again and walked quickly out of the room.
Ben was busy ushering Cat to take a seat, afraid she might slip through his arms.
Lord Marlington stood, wobbling as he favored one leg. “Thank you very much for having us. We shall see ourselves out.” As he passed Jane, he added, “And it was so very good to meet you in particular, Miss Watson. I hope it will not be the last time.”
“Wait,” Cat called faintly, but it was hard to hear her over the door slamming behind John as he hurried out and down the street as quickly as he could.
* * *
6
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IT DID NOT MATTER ANYMORE …
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CHAPTER SIX
A Humble Hero
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T he day of John and Lord Marlington’s visit was surely one that would go down in infamy within the family. It had taken Cat sometime to recover. Ben even forced a bit of brandy on her to warm her chilled skin.
After repeated assurances from her sister and husband, she was able to explain. “It was him. John. He was the one who got me out of the fire. We never figured it out and I never quite put it together. He could not have been more than five or six.”
“How could he have carried you?”
“He was always tall for his age,” Jane admitted. “And strong.” He had to be, to protect his brothers from their father.
“I do not think I remember because I spent nearly the entire year in bed and by then he did not look the same as he did then. And his face was absolutely full of soot that night. I remember. Dear God.”
Ben was in even worse shape as he watched his wife recount the story, sweaty and agitated and worried for her.
Cat cleared her throat. “The room was going up in flames and I lost consciousness. He could have died saving me. Easily. Even before I grew tired, the room was practically engulfed.”
Ben turned to Jane, his wife practically in his lap. “And he never said a word to you about this?”
“No,” Jane whispered. “We did not even become friends until I was five and he was nearly ten. We rarely talked about the fire but the few time I can recall doing so… Believe me, Ben, I would not keep this from you and I would definitely not keep this from my sister.”
“But why would he not tell someone?” Ben asked, desperate for some logic in the midst of this revelation.
Jane bit her lip.
“Does it matter?” Cat asked. “He saved my life.”
“I cannot say for sure,” Jane began quietly. “He is very humble. And he was young when it happened. Perhaps he thought he might be in trouble then. He might not have wanted the attention on his family, such as it was.”
“But I would have thanked him!” Ben yelled, much too loudly, as silent tears began to fall down his wife’s cheeks. “He saved Cat’s life. He risked his life to save hers! And after meeting your family, I became aware of his family situation, and I did not intervene when it came to his father. I did nothing.”
“You could not have known,” Jane soothed. “There was no way for any of us to have known. And John would not have wanted the attention.” She paused. “He did not even tell me.”
“I questioned him, two years ago with Shep,” Ben admitted as he pressed his forehead to Cat’s blond hair. “I did not think he had anything to do with the fire, but I know that Jane had said that he once admitted to having seen a figure on the property and I wanted to know if he knew anything else. It makes sense why he would have seen someone if he had been your rescuer! He said nothing about heroics.” Ben’s hand fisted. “I offered him money for the information he gave me, but he would not take. Money! For simple information! When I owe him Cat’s life and now my own and the children.”
“Ben, it is all right. I am all right,” Cat comforted her husband. She was not all right though. She was far from it. But she had to be strong. “Thank God for John.”
Somehow everyone had recovered enough to continue packing and return on time to Pritchford Place. But it was still affecting them. Both Cat and John had circles beneath their eyes from sleepless nights and though they went through the motions of running the estate, saying and doing all the right things, the very foundation of what they had known had shifted.
Jane felt similarly, although for different reasons. She could not believe that without John’s intervention, her sister would not be alive. He had saved Cat. For years, they had wondered how she made it out alive. Why had he kept it from her? Yes, the reasons she explained to both Cat and Ben on that day were probably the truth. But that he had kept something so important from Jane when she had never kept anything from him had her evaluating the relationship. She had known he would always downplay his father’s treatment of the family, but Jane knew him well enough to tell when he was lying and to be honest, it was not that difficult when he had been twelve years old and sporting a black eye and a limp.
She thought of his words to her two years ago: I swear to you, Jane Watson, I will make something of myself. I will be good enough for you and if you are still free to marry, I will propose. I shall spend my life trying to be worthy of you. Oh, she could strangle him. He already was good enough for her! Why had she not said that then? Why had she agreed that it was best to part? She should have fought him. He had been good enough before this information and was the most heroic and yet humble person she knew now that it was revealed. But she did not know if he still felt that way, if he still loved her.
The love she had buried for so many years had sprung free, and she did not know what to do about it. It felt selfish to talk to her sister about it when Cat was dealing with her own trauma. It felt selfish to feel both the joy and ecstasy of love during this time. She considered writing to him, but she had no idea what to say. The one time it really mattered, after counseling the most important people in her life on their love lives without any fear, she had no words to explain how she felt.
Memories followed her everywhere she went. The time she had ruined yet another dress digging in the dirt and he had produced enough yellow flowers, patiently, tying the dandelion stems around one another to create a daisy chain. The way he had laughed with her as he placed it gently on her head and declared her Queen of the Fairies. The day she found him behind the shed with two black eyes and bruised knuckles. She had sat quietly beside him until he was ready to speak and when he did, she had wanted to kiss his hand and weep at the same time.
“I hit him back this time, Janie,” he admitted. “He went for Rob. He is only four!” He paused. “And I hit him back.”
In the end, she had made him promise to wait for her while she had stolen into the house for bandages and a little basin of water. She had kneeled before him, cleaning and repairing what she could, wanting to cry, and ruining the knees of yet another dress. In the end, she had pressed the smallest of kisses to the best bandage she could muster for his hands.
“You are the bravest boy I know,” she had told him reverently.
He had been. He still was.
Hundreds of looks and gestures buzzed around her constantly like bees. The way his gray eyes lit up whenever she brought him a new book, which he had to hide from his father. The stubborn tilt of his chin as he refused to dance with her, because why would he need to know how to dance? The feeling of his hands in hers, roughened from hard work, when he finally gave in and danced with her. The feeling of his lips that day by the very tree he had once taught her to climb, making her want something she did not know she could want until that very moment.
For the first time, it felt as if Cat and Jane could not help one another as they both dealt with their individual issues. On their own, they could both admit how badly they felt about that while
also secretly wishing that Julia’s visit would hurry because their sister needed help and they could not be the one to give it.
The bump on George’s head had disappeared quickly and he had gone back to being his cheerful self. The same could not be said of the rest of the family. Cat’s recollection had brought up old wounds for all them. Jane could objectively agree that perhaps they needed to be brought up to keep from festering and the extent to which this was affecting everyone was proof of that. But that was only when she forced herself to be objective. Otherwise, it was terribly difficult to see her sister in such pain and to see the man she considered her brother dealing with such guilt.
Meanwhile, Jane, when she could sleep, dreamt of two things: a fire she was too young to remember and a pair of gray eyes, smiling, laughing, crying. It did not matter. She knew their every expression by heart.
* * *
7
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SHE FELT ALONE. AND LONELY,
SO INCREDIBLY LONELY.
…
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CHAPTER SEVEN
A Pritchford Place Reunion
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P ritchford Place
Pritchford, Yorkshire
From the moment Julia, Ben’s twin sister, had stuck up for Cat at a ball, before she was even engaged to Ben, Cat had liked Julia. It had not taken her long to love Julia as a sister, just as much as she loved Jane. Still, she did not think she had ever been so happy to see Julia than when Julia arrived with her husband, Shep, and their twins for this particular visit. She was very aware that her husband and her sister and even herself were floundering.
Regency Romance: The Viscount's Blazing Love (Fire and Smoke: CLEAN Historical Romance) Page 5
