When Annabelle checked on her progress, she handed Ella several half-written letters to fabric mills and trim manufacturers to finish and post. Playing secretary was surprisingly interesting and rewarding. As the younger daughter, no one thought her particularly useful, but she did have excellent penmanship and enjoyed organizing. Putting those skills to use passed the time, engaged her active mind, and made her feel needed. She liked it all.
She’d just sealed her last letter and started re-arranging the ledgers when two male voices reached her from the hive. Annabelle’s workroom chattered with female tones, but men were a novelty. She paused to listen. First, she distinguished Edmund bantering with Katie and other employees. A deeper, more reserved tone filtered through to her next. Jim was with her brother-in-law.
She vacillated between leaping up to greet him and listening to what he said. He couldn’t know she worked in Annabelle’s office so she waited. Edmund wouldn’t leave until seeing Annabelle who was busy in the showroom so, for once in her life, Ella exercised patience and stayed where she was.
From the trail of deep voices, Edmund was showing Jim around the hive, introducing him to the girls and the equipment. Since Jim’s sister managed Annabelle’s Bath operation, many of the London employees knew of Belinda and a few had met her. Jim exchanged pleasantries, sounding almost comfortable in the female dominated environment.
They neared the office when Katie called Edmund away, leaving Jim chatting with one of Annabelle’s older employees, Mrs. O’Leary, an Irish woman, who tatted exceptionally fine lace.
“I thought that was you, my boy, but I didn’t want to say.” Her soft, accented voice was almost lost in the noise of the hive, but Ella’s keen ear caught most of the conversation.
“How are you, Mrs. O’Leary? I haven’t seen you since…” Jim stopped short.
“I’m fine other than getting old and creaking in the bones a bit. I’ve a good spot working for Miss Annabelle.” She said something more, but a sewing machine roared to life, blocking out their words. Ella shifted closer to the office door, straining to hear over the whir and rattle. “Takes me back to the old neighborhood,” Mrs. O’Leary was saying. What takes her back? How did she know Jim?
“Belinda and I appreciate you not saying anything about our names,” Jim said, “more than you know.”
“Your folks was always good to me when I needed. It was a nasty business that took them. So I’ll do what I can for you, my boy, and Belinda.”
When Edmund’s quick footsteps approached the pair, the conversation ended and Ella hastened back to the desk where she bent over a letter. None of the words on the page registered in her mind, but she appeared busy in case they entered the office.
“Ella,” Edmund leaned in the door. To her credit, Ella jumped like she’d been absorbed in the work.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you were here,” she managed with a doe-eyed expression and added a smile when Jim appeared behind Edmund.
“Annabelle said she was keeping you busy.” He entered the office, glancing around the small room, his charismatic grin showing his appreciation. “I haven’t seen her office this neat in months.”
“I think keeping up with two shops takes more time than she has, especially now that she’s married. I’m happy to have the work.” She wanted Jim to move past the threshold, but he kept his distance and remained silent.
“How is your project?” she enquired. “Do you need any secretarial help?”
“No,” Jim said. Apparently, one syllable was the extent of his verbal skills.
“Not at the moment, but we’ll keep you in mind.” Her more charming brother-in-law phrased the refusal in a prettier package. With time and opportunity, she’d teach Jim that a pretty package made all the difference.
****
Jim turned the key in his desk, giving each handle a yank to confirm its locked status. Everything but the scale model needed for the upcoming presentation was in that desk. The completed model, secured in Edmund’s safe downstairs, waited to be presented to the Admiralty and lords in a few days.
Since Jim couldn’t lie that the project plans were incomplete and stay home to work, Edmund had skillfully trapped him into attending the theatre. He was to escort Ella or so he’d been informed, which meant sitting next to her for hours in a dark theatre and riding next to her in a dark carriage. Too much time in darkness.
He shrugged into his evening coat, keeping his mind far from other things he’d like to do with Ella in the dark. The oversized bed behind him would make an appropriate venue for that act, but satisfying his lust wasn’t going to happen tonight or any night with her.
Perhaps a drink downstairs before they left would help. He opened his door just as Ella did hers. Either the only two guest rooms in this giant house were across the hall from each other or someone had a twisted sense of humor.
“Hello,” she said, drifting toward him in a gown the color of the ocean in summer. “I’m a little early, but I’m so excited about seeing the new theatre.”
In the dimness of the hall, the gown’s color amplified Ella’s green eyes and beautiful ivory skin. Inches of bare skin rose above the low neckline, tantalizing him. She was so slender he might have thought he would snap her in half with his large hands, but if he touched her, he knew from experience, she’d feel soft, pliant, warm.
“Jim?” she prompted in the silence. How much time passed while he stood there admiring her? “Anything wrong?”
“No…um…Good evening.” He straightened himself mentally and physically. “Are you ready to go down?” He offered his arm to her, feeling ridiculous when she didn’t take it.
“Your door is open.” She nodded behind him where the door gaped wide. Damn, she could make him lose his head just by saying hello. Closing the door, he locked it and pocketed his key. “Afraid of thieves?” she teased.
“Cautious,” he commented, his offered arm accepted now. No need for her to know the guard Edmund recently hired prevented a break-in just two nights ago. Interestingly, the guard lost the would-be thief in Grosvenor Square very near Lord Spencer’s townhouse.
“I wish someone would tell me what there is to be so cautious about. I don’t deal well with curiosity.” Good thing she didn’t know more of his past, he decided, as they descended the stairs. Her curiosity might lead her to something she didn’t wish to know.
By the time they reached their seats at the theatre, the constant exposure to Ella’s perfume and figure was on the verge of driving him mad. With great relief, he seated Ella and went off to join Edmund who was getting a personal tour of the theatre from the manager. The new Adelphi, a reincarnation of an existing theatre, had opened a few weeks ago, impressing theatregoers with its opulence and comfort.
Jim was more interested in the innovations included in the new structure. The iron roof supported by filigreed columns, not the exterior brick walls, made the interior more spacious. Digging the pit area deeper into the ground allowed the theatre to have an extra tier and gave it a maximum capacity of two thousand guests. The manager reported these novelties to Edmund and Jim, but the new chandelier was the centerpiece of the reconstruction. Lighted by Stroud’s Patent Sun Lamp, the gas-lit, cut glass chandelier flooded the theatre with light.
Only as the chandelier dimmed to signal the beginning of the play did the gentlemen rejoin Ella and Annabelle in their box. With his usual easy grace, Edmund kissed his wife’s hand as he slid into his seat. Jim, with a great deal less style, simply sat on the small chair. The closeness of the box forced Ella’s gown to flow into his space. Not only did he have to endure the constant scent of her perfume and glimpses at her cleavage whenever she leaned forward, the silk rustled against him. He tried not to imagine her skin as the silk, but the thought stayed with him through the first act.
Whatever the play was she seemed pleased with it, turning toward him at humorous or intense parts to gauge his reaction. He managed a smile or nod for her benefit, but with her so close he couldn’t
follow the speeches or the plot.
As the curtain fell and intermission began, he planned to abandon Ella to her family and go outside where the cool fall evening would rescue him temporarily from overexposure to her. However, Lord Spencer’s wave from a box on the opposite side kept Jim in his seat. That wave and the predatory expression on his face meant he was planning to visit Edmund’s box. Jim got comfortable, stretching his legs out to fill what little space remained. Spencer would have to lean over the edge to get near Ella.
“The theatre’s lovely,” she said, turning toward him as Annabelle and Edmund left the box. “Did you enjoy the tour?”
“I did. It’s quite remarkable what they’ve done here. It looks like a traditional theatre, but has innovations that make it quite advanced.”
“The sort of thing you like. Like armor-plated steamships that still have sails.” She whispered the last, her lips close to his ear conspiratorially. She’d seen enough of his model to know that. He wished her completely ignorant of it all, especially when Spencer entered the box.
“Lady Ella, I heard you returned to town to stay with your sister.” Spencer bent over, taking her hand to his lips in a cavalier gesture. Jim should have stood up, making way for the new man. Etiquette demanded it, but he didn’t move. His intention was to squeeze Spencer out. “Ferguson.”
“Spencer.” Dropping the other man’s title counted as disrespectful as well, but Spencer had no lordly qualities.
“I thought you might contact me, my love,” Spencer said in a voice meant to reach Jim’s ears. “The little season is the perfect time to pursue romance in time for a Christmas wedding. I hope you plan to stay in town for several weeks.”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying.” Ella switched her gaze between the two men. Jim supposed he was suffering in comparison and didn’t give a damn. “My visit depends on a number of factors.”
“Then I better take advantage of the time I’ve got. Will you join me tomorrow for a ride?” Spencer tried to maneuver to be directly in front of Ella, but Jim refused to budge. “Rotten Row is a bit lonely this time of year, but we wouldn’t need anyone else to enjoy the morning.”
“I have commitments tomorrow, my lord, as I’ve promised my sister that I would assist her with some business issues.” Ella politely declined the offer, but Jim couldn’t determine if her regretful tone was sincere or not.
“You’re far too beautiful to worry about business.” Spencer managed to give Ella a look that was both complimentary and vaguely lewd. “Leave it to the lesser beings of the world.”
“Is that your personal philosophy, Spencer?” Jim joined the conversation because the temptation to flip Spencer over the short railing and watch him plummet into the orchestra pit nearly got hold of him.
“I’d call it the privilege of aristocracy, Ferguson.” An edge in Spencer’s voice made Ella shoot Jim a questioning look. “Not something you’ll ever experience.”
“Or care to. I’ve seen what certain members of the aristocracy do to the lesser beings of the world when given the opportunity.”
“I think the second act is about to start.” Ella broke the tension as the house lights dimmed. “Will we see you later, Lord Spencer?”
“I have an appointment that prevents me from staying, but I shall call on you soon.” He kissed her hand again and left.
Jim scowled after Spencer, regretting the other man’s interruption to the evening, but kicking himself, too. He should have been the one to tell Ella she was beautiful. It was too late now. He couldn’t say it after Spencer’s declaration.
All he could do was watch out for Spencer. He didn’t reappear in the box across the theatre. Whatever his appointment was at this time of evening, it wasn’t one of a respectable man. Jim was satisfied with himself that he’d locked up anything to do with the Iron Lady very carefully. He suspected it had been Spencer who’d attempted to break into Edmund’s home a few nights earlier. Nothing prevented him from making a second try given the opportunity.
Chapter Ten
Ella waited until Annabelle left for her shop and the men were engaged in a meeting before she quietly slipped from the house. A plan to explore Jim’s past hatched in her head. Since she was in London, she could go to the site of his family’s inn. From bits of conversation she had a good sense of where it was. Plus, Annabelle innocently supplied the name months ago when explaining their brother Heath’s connection to Jim and Belinda.
After two days in the dress shop combing through Annabelle’s accounts and ledgers, it was easy for her to plead a headache and be allowed to stay home. Everyone would be occupied for hours and not even realize her absence. She could walk the relatively short distance to Piccadilly past Regent Street and return as quietly as she left.
Jim’s behavior at the theatre only amused her. Although he hadn’t been exceptionally pleasant to her, his obvious jealousy toward Lord Spencer confirmed her belief in his love. Now to find out something about his family and past. If that’s what stood between them, she needed the details to counter his excuses.
Piccadilly, a wide and busy street lined with shops, stood guard between two kinds of London—the wealthy areas of St. James as they transitioned to businesses on Bond and Regent Streets to the poorer areas around Seven Dials. It was halfway between the commercial area of Regent and the working class neighborhoods where Ella focused her search.
To the casual observer, she was a young lady out shopping, but in each store she bought a small item and asked questions about The Angry Adder Inn. In the third shop, a salesgirl recognized the name and pointed her to a clockmaker a half block down.
Inside the clockmaker’s shop, she studied the pocket watches in a glass case while the old clerk finished with a customer. Several clocks ticked loudly along with an occasional cuckoo from the decorative timepieces on the wall.
“How may I help you, miss?” The elderly clerk shuffled closer. “Need a watch as a gift for your beau.”
“Perhaps, but I’m not sure what style he’d like. I hope you can help as I think you may know my fiancé. His family owned The Angry Adder.” She assumed a helpless expression men of all ages couldn’t resist.
The man’s wrinkled face lit with a smile. “You mean Jimmy Crandall. Why I’ve known Jimmy since he was knee high. He used to pester me for work until I let him take apart some clocks. No one was surprised around here when he became an engineer. He was always fixing things.”
“Yes, that’s definitely him.” Her forced, polite smile well practiced at social events stayed in place while her mind raced. This is what the reference to his name meant in the conversation with Mrs. O’Leary. Jim lived under an assumed name, but why?
“I’m Mr. Weatherby,” he said. “You tell him to stop by for a visit if he can. Haven’t seen him much since the night his mother was killed.”
“So tragic.” Ella hoped that was the right response to elicit a story.
“Never did find out who set the inn ablaze. It was arson I’ll guarantee. Poor woman burned so badly we hardly knew who it was, but Jimmy knew. Found her in the rubble, he did. Carried her body out himself. Then, old James Crandall dead just a few weeks later. Some say he died of injuries from the fire, some say his heart was broken. Don’t matter. Left Jimmy to clean up the mess and take care of his sister.” Mr. Weatherby stared past the front windows, lost in memory.
“Where was the inn exactly? Jimmy’s never told me.” She adopted Mr. Weatherby’s use of Jim’s name. “I’m not even exactly sure when the fire occurred.”
“Be three years in November. Windy, stormy night. Lucky half the neighborhood didn’t go with it. The spot’s another block down on this side. Livery stable there now.”
“Thank you for the information, Mr. Weatherby. You can imagine how difficult it is for Jimmy to talk about it.” She squeezed the old man’s arm in a friendly gesture. “Would you help me select a watch for him?”
“Wedding gift?”
“That’s right.” O
ne way or another, she planned to be Mrs. Ferguson or perhaps Mrs. Crandall if the old clockmaker’s story was correct.
With a handsome gold watch for Jim in her bag, she walked directly to the livery stable. Too many questions swirled in her head, but she wanted more information before trying to organize it.
“Hello,” she called into the darkness of the stable. “Is there anyone about?”
“Just me, miss.” A sandy-haired stable boy of perhaps fifteen came forth from a stall. “Do you need a rig?”
“Not today. I hope you can help me. I’m so bad at directions.” Her statement was true, but intentional. No person of the male gender could resist giving a woman directions, especially when the female appeared helpless. “My papa used to stop at an inn around here. I could swear it was on this block, but I can’t find it. The name was something about a snake.”
“The Angry Adder, miss.” The boy immediately supplied the name.
“That’s it.” She pretended surprise all the while delighted that he knew of the inn. “Have I missed it?”
“It’s gone.” He shook his head and wrinkled his forehead as if expressing a wise truth. “Burned up a few years back is what I’ve been told. Never knew the place myself.”
“That’s too bad. My papa liked the folks who owned it. He always said they were honest innkeepers.”
“Never heard a bad story about it, except the fire.”
“I guess that answers my question. Thank you for your time.” She held out a coin to him, which he pocketed immediately.
“Must’ve been a good place,” the boy added. “A gent was by not long ago asking about it and the family who ran it.”
“Really?” Someone else in search of the Fergusons, Crandalls, she corrected herself. A curious coincidence.
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 200
