Mary: To Protect Her Heart (Other Pens, Mansfield Park Book 3)

by Leenie Brown

  They rode in silence for a distance until the carriage came to a stop, shaking Gabe from his pleasant reverie of carriages and kissing.

  “Are we at your house already?” Tom asked, pushing the curtain aside with his cane once again.

  “There seems to be a carriage that has had some trouble,” Gabe said as he peered out the window. Being on the forward-facing seat, he could see what Tom could not. “I will see if I can be of service.”

  ~*~*~

  “Miss Morton,” he greeted as he approached the carriage in front of them. The lady from last night at the theatre was standing to the side, watching, with two other young ladies whom he did not know.

  “Oh, it is the most dreadful thing, Mr. Durward,” she cried. “The wheel is broken. I do not know how this could happen. Father takes such good care of his vehicles.”

  Gabe was quite certain that the lady before him had very little idea about how a wheel could break or how one cared for a vehicle of any sort. Still, he smiled and offered his assistance. “Allow me to see if I can help the men. Another set of hands might make moving the carriage easier.”

  “But how shall we get home?”

  “The carriage must be moved first,” he said as calmly as he could.

  “All those packages must be kept safe,” said one of her friends. “I do not trust those strangers near them.”

  “No one is going to steal your parcels,” Gabe assured them. Mary must have felt very out of place with some of her friends, for she was a great deal more astute and master of her emotions than these ladies appeared to be. “These men are just attempting to clear the road so others can get through the street.”

  “But they are tradesmen,” the other of Miss Morton’s friends said.

  “As am I,” Gabe said, levelling a firm stare in her direction. He despised rudeness. “Would you rather move the vehicle by yourselves?”

  “You are a tradesman?” the lady asked in disbelief. “You do not look like one.”

  “We do not all wear smocks,” he replied and made to move to where he could lend a shoulder to help get the vehicle out of the path so that he could go home.

  “A very heroic deed, Mr. Durward,” Lady St. James said as Gabe brushed dirt from his clothing after the road had been cleared and he was moving toward his carriage.

  “Indeed, it was,” Miss Morton said, stepping forward to offer him her hand in thanks.

  He caught her by the elbow when she tripped. “It was not heroic,” he said with a look toward Lady St. James as he steadied Miss Morton. “I would like to eat dinner before it is cold, and Miss Morton’s vehicle was in the way of our vehicle. It was an act of necessity.” He extracted his arm which had become ensnared in Miss Morton’s grasp. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Bertram is waiting, and as I said, we do not wish to be late for dinner.”

  “And we must see that our parcels are delivered home safely,” Lady St. James replied. “Shopping can be so taxing. Come along, ladies. My coach has ample room for both you and your things.”

  Gabe wished them well with a tip of his hat and then brushed at a few remaining patches of dust and returned to Tom’s carriage, so he could be on his way home.

  Chapter 10

  Mary looked over the selection of lace that was presented to her. The first was too large. The second was a bit too delicate, as was the third. But the fourth, the fourth looked like it would suit her project quite well.

  “A fine selection, do you not think, Emily?” Lady St. James picked up the lace from the counter with a glance at one of her three companions. “Not too delicate. Very serviceable. Quite fitting for a trades man’s wife.”

  “Oh, this is not for a lady. This is for a blanket for a wee one,” Margaret inserted before Mary could say anything.

  “It is not for yourself then?” Lady St. James directed the question to Mary, making clear to Margaret the implication of her former statement, as she handed the lace to Miss Morton.

  “Oh, no,” Margaret cried. “Have no fear. Mary shall have better lace than that when she finally weds. I shall see to that. But it is kind of you to be concerned.”

  Mary sucked in on her cheeks to keep from smiling at how Margaret feigned ignorance of Sarah’s disparagement rankled Sarah. Margaret had always been very good at that. She did not like confrontations, and so she often tried to turn them away by presenting the aggressor with the frustrating task of attempting to make her display any sort of anger. Mary knew she would hear a full litany of rebukes of Lady St. James on their way home, but Margaret would not stoop to saying such things in public.

  “It is very serviceable,” Emily Morton said as she handed the lace to Margaret.

  “I am glad you think so,” Mary said. “A child’s blanket should always be serviceable. A bit of this on it will just make it a little bit more special.”

  “A child?” There was laughter in Lady St. James’s voice. “Whose child?” She looked toward Miss Morton, Miss Smith, and Miss Wilson as she covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers. “Mr. Durward is a handsome fellow.” The three ladies with her tittered.

  “He is, but he has no children,” Margaret once again intervened. “This is for the poor souls at the foundling hospital.”

  “Are you certain he has none?” Lady St. James said, her eyes flashing with wicked delight.

  “Quite,” Margaret assured her. “He is not the sort.”

  Lady St. James lowered her voice. “I understand the seafaring sort are most proficient at leaving their unwanted offspring in foreign ports, so I am sure you are correct. None of the children in one of our hospitals would be his.”

  “No, you misunderstand me,” Margaret said in a flat tone that told Mary her sister was reaching the end of her patience. “I meant he is an honourable gentleman.”

  “My lady knows very little about those sorts of gentlemen,” Mary said. “So, you will have to forgive her ignorance in such things, Margaret.”

  “I know very well of what I speak,” Sarah snapped. “We just saw your Mr. Durward. Miss Morton’s carriage was unfortunate enough to sustain a broken wheel, and since it was in the middle of the road, it was preventing traffic from moving freely. Mr. Durward assisted in the removal of the vehicle to the side of the road.” She sighed. “He is a magnificent specimen.”

  “That only proves his character as good,” Margaret said when Sarah paused.

  “I will take this one,” Mary said, turning to the clerk, who assured her it would be wrapped up straightaway.

  “I have not finished,” Sarah said. “What was the name of the lady he was on his way to visit?” She turned toward her friends. “I am dreadful at remembering such details when things are so chaotic as they were with the traffic not moving and the tradesmen pushing that carriage out of the way. It really was quite the sight.”

  “I do not remember,” Miss Morton said. “Do you?” She turned to the other ladies, who assured her they did not remember either.

  “Oh, wait!” Miss Smith cried. “Was it Isla?”

  Lady St. James considered the name and then shook her head. “I am not certain it was, but it was, of course, an exotic sounding name. Men who have sailed the seas do prefer their mistresses to be foreign. She must be rather special as he seemed in quite the hurry to be on his way.” She placed a hand on Mary’s arm. “It is shocking, I suppose, to tell you this. However, Mr. Bertram was with him, so I suppose whoever this mistress is resides with other ladies of her trade.”

  Mary’s brow furrowed. Mr. Durward was not visiting a brothel accompanied by Mr. Bertram. Tom had said he intended to be a proper gentleman from this point forward. He had not sounded like a man who was unsure of his decision when he had spoken to her that night in the garden. And Gabe? She was nearly certain he was not the sort of gentleman who would take a mistress after the way he has spoken so harshly about the admiral.

  However, “You must be mistaken,” was all she could think to say to Sarah.

  “We all think that the first time
our gentlemen are discovered to be amusing themselves without us.” She shrugged. “But it is the way things are.”

  “No, it is not. Not for everyone,” Mary countered. Edmund would have never taken a mistress, and if one gentleman would not, then, surely, there were others who were just as trustworthy.

  Sarah patted Mary’s arm and smiled at her sadly. “We all start out denying it is possible, but when you have discovered the truth of my words, send me word, and I shall have an invitation for you to our next soiree.” She grimaced. “However, I cannot include you while you are still courting Mr. Durward. My husband would just not approve. I am certain you understand. It is not that I do not wish to have you join us, but my husband is the holder of the purse, after all.”

  Mary smiled and nodded before saying a word of farewell. Her eyes narrowed as she walked out of the store with her parcel. “It is not true!”

  “Of course, it is not true,” Margaret assured her. “You, of all people, should know how proficient Lady St. James is at crafting a tale.”

  Mary nodded. She knew that Sarah was not to be trusted. She also knew that Mr. Durward was trustworthy. However, the fear of being proven wrong about him and having her heart shatter would not be easily tucked away. She drew in a breath through her nose and slowly blew it out through slightly parted lips. She did this three times, and yet the racing of her heart and the threat of tears did not diminish.

  “Come. We will take a drive before we go home,” Margaret suggested.

  Mary shook her head. She did not wish to be trapped in a carriage with her sister when she would rather be in her room where no one would know if she gave in to those tears that wished so desperately to be set free. However, since Margaret would not be put off, they drove in some direction that was not the way home.

  They had turned down a second street before anything was said in the carriage. Margaret sat next to Mary and held her hand but said nothing. It always amazed Mary how Margaret knew the right thing to do. It was a quality that made Margaret an excellent older sister as well as a welcoming parson’s wife. Again, Mary was reminded of how ill-suited she was to Edmund. She would not have been a good parson’s wife.

  “Tears are not evil,” Margaret whispered. “If you need to cry, you may. I will not tell anyone.”

  Mary shook her head.

  “Why do you fear them?” Margaret asked.

  Mary drew and expelled a breath, attempting to steady herself, before replying. “Tears are a sign of weakness. A lady who cries acknowledges her hurt and others can use that against her.” She rested her head back and closed her eyes. “The admiral seemed to enjoy seeing his wife in tears, and she attempted to use them to sway him but with no success.” She opened her eyes and looked at Margaret. “Nothing good comes from tears that are shed in public.”

  “We are not in public, and I would not rejoice in your pain. Surely, you know that!”

  Mary squeezed the hand that held hers. “I do, but I fear that if I succumb to tears once, even in this carriage with only you as my audience, I shall do so again.” She shrugged. “I know it does not make sense, but it just does not feel safe to allow myself to cry unless I am in private.”

  Margaret shook her head and scowled. “I could box the admiral’s ears! Oh, he is heinous! To think he has caused you to be so! It is as if he controls you even now.”

  Mary gasped. Would she ever be rid of that man? Crying put her at risk of being humiliated and laughed at, but by not shedding a tear, she was still living in the admiral’s shadow.

  “What is it?” Margaret asked in concern. “I did not mean to startle you with my outcry, but he makes me so angry.”

  Mary understood that feeling. The admiral had been making her angry for years. “It was the truth of what you said that startled me. Please, do not think you have wounded me.”

  “If you are certain you are well,” Margaret replied hesitantly.

  With a nod, Mary assured her sister that she was as well as could be expected.

  “Then, shall we go home?”

  “I think we should,” Mary said.

  Margaret tapped the wall behind the driver, and after the carriage had stopped and a footman had inquired as to what was needed, they began their homeward journey.

  “I am positive,” Margaret said, looking out the window, “that I do not even know where we are. These buildings do not look at all familiar.” She turned to Mary. “We should do this more often.”

  “Do what more often?” Mary leaned toward the window to look up at the tops of the houses and down the street. They stood row on row next to each other with their tops nearly identical in height.

  “Wander about and discover more of town. We have been here for some time now, and there is yet so much to see.”

  “I would like that.”

  “It will be an adventure much like it was that day we visited Mr. Durward at his warehouse.” Margaret’s breath tickled Mary’s ear as she leaned close to join Mary in looking out the window. “I think it is excellent to understand how different people live. Very much like visiting the foundling hospital, visiting new neighbourhoods will give us an appreciation for all we have.” She sat back, though she still leaned toward Mary and peered out the window. “Of course, our driver will know if it is a neighbourhood we should visit. I should not want to see you in any danger. That simply would not do.”

  “I would not wish to be in danger,” Mary assured her. “I am curious to a point, but it is not to the point of risking my safety. When it comes to such things, I would prefer to be told about the state of things by someone else who has survived the dangers.”

  They turned once again, causing Margaret to slide a little bit closer to Mary.

  Mary’s breath caught in her chest, and her hand covered her heart.

  “Margaret,” she whispered, unable to make any louder sound. “It is Mr. Durward and Mr. Bertram.” A tear slid down her cheek. “He was…” she attempted, as her sister peered out the window, to tell her that she had seen Mr. Durward allowing the woman at the door to kiss him, but words failed her.

  “Oh, I see him!” Margaret cried. “Who is that?”

  Mary shook her head. Hopefully, it was not the mistress Sarah had mentioned. Tom entered the house first, then, the exotic-looking woman, who had welcomed Mr. Durward with a kiss, wrapped her arms around one of his arms, and happily, he entered with her as a second, third, and fourth tear slid down Mary’s cheek.

  Chapter 11

  “It seems,” Tom said the next day as he once again found himself settling into a chair in front of Gabe’s desk at the warehouse, “that Lady St. James had a brooch go missing yesterday when she was out shopping.” He placed a copy of the newspaper on Gabe’s desk.

  Gabe nodded. “I read that. Some light-fingered pickpocket snatched it.” He shook his head. “A pretty young lady with an ability to trip over nothing into the arms of a gentleman is more like it!”

  “In any case,” Tom replied, “you were right in turning it into the fellows at Bow Street as soon as you discovered it in your pocket, even if it did make us late for dinner.”

  “It is always best to deal with the nefarious before they can spin their web too wide. Unless, of course, you cannot find the nefarious creature.” He pushed his books forward.

  “Are you still missing money?”

  Gabe nodded. He had explained to Tom last night how he had noticed about a month ago that the accounts were not adding up as they should – as they always had in the past.

  “And your partners? Have you spoken to them?”

  Again, Gabe nodded. “They are going to scour the books starting tomorrow. I have one last day to discover my error, or it is going to look very much like I have made the money go missing.”

  “But you are the one who reported it! A thief does not point out his pilfering.”

  If only that was what all of his partners believed, but from the whispers he had heard since telling them of the discrepancy this morning, they di
d not. He blew out a breath. “Well, if that report had kept my name out of it as the person who found and returned the brooch, perhaps everyone would believe as you do.”

  “You cannot be serious!” Tom cried.

  “But I am. I have heard a few snatches of conversations that lead me to believe there are those who think I am only reporting the missing funds because I am afraid I will get caught – just as I returned that brooch once I knew that Lady St. James had noticed it was missing.”

  “But you had no way of knowing that Lady St. James was going to report the brooch as stolen! You did not even know it was hers, and you turned it in at Bow Street before she even made her report.”

  “I know that, but you know how things can be twisted by those who are not fond of you.”

  Tom reluctantly agreed. Both he and Gabe knew that there were many in society who twisted and turned information for their purpose.

  “My position in the business is tenuous at present,” Gabe admitted. “I planned to make my break from my partners soon, but I had hoped to claim one more prize before doing so. I can sustain the blow if I am asked to depart, but it will not be as easily done as if I left on my own terms and without having to repay the money that is missing.” He sucked in another breath. Being dismissed and having to repay funds was the best option. “Of course, if they decide to pull me into Old Bailey’s, the outcome would be even worse, which is why I have asked you to join me today.”

  He rose and closed the door. He did not need to have anyone who happened to pass by hearing what he had to say, and he could hear distant footsteps in the corridor.

  “I have created a list of items that will need someone to look after them if I cannot. There is information here and instructions regarding my finances, but the most important are the last two items.” He handed the list to Tom. “I know it is a lot to ask, but if you could in some way see that Mother is settled into a comfortable place. Father left her ample money to do so.” He swallowed against the emotions that saying such a thing necessarily roused in him. “And then, there is the matter of that ring I showed you last night. I wish for Miss Crawford to have it no matter what becomes of me. I want her to know that I truly did care for her.” He shook his head. “You will have to convince her that I did not steal anything, or she will likely not take the ring as she has no desire to be reminded of yet another untrustworthy gentleman.”