by Edith Layton
The fair-haired young man did not seem to be discomposed. Even though he had no invitation, he sat down in an available chair, inclined his head for courtesy to the massive woman who sat silently beside the desk, and then addressed himself to the man who had first spoken.
“I had other matters to see to, Mr. Cribb. I’m not at leisure to come and go as I please. I have a position to fulfill.”
“And it pays you enough to put into a flea’s ear. That’s why I summoned you,” Mr. Cribb replied.
“You have a position to offer me?” the younger man asked with a fair amount of disbelief tinging his voice. “I was not aware you needed help in running Oak Hill. Is it such a prosperous holding now? I am surprised, between Jess and Red Jack, and I thought the place had been run into the ground.”
“Don’t come over clever with me,” the older man said, motioning his visitor to remain seated. “I’ve not called you here to exchange compliments. I’ve a job for you, one that will pay well. Of course, if you’re rolling in clover, be gone. For what I say won’t interest you.”
Since the younger man settled back in his seat again, Mr. Cribb nodded knowingly.
“Thought not. Good family, but no prospects. I may not be the most-well-liked fellow in the district, but you won’t find a more knowing one, eh, Tilda?”
At the enormous woman’s laughter, he went on, “And I’ve blunt. Plenty of it, don’t let that worry you. It’s true Oak Hill ain’t a patch on your lordly employer’s place, but I've plenty of silver put aside. I didn’t cut such a fine figure in a uniform as my dear cousin did, but I worked hard and dealt sharp all my life, so I’m no pauper. But more’s better, eh? That’s always been my motto, why just look at Tilda here.” The young gentleman tried not to, and tapped his foot impatiently.
“Right, lad,” the older man said approvingly. “All business, down to tacks, then. You’re a gentleman born, Thomas Preston, but your trouble is that there was three gentlemen born before you. You’ve no expectations. I know it.”
“I don’t deny it,” the fair-haired young man replied.
“Couldn’t,” Mr. Cribb said bluntly, and then he opened a drawer and withdrew a leather purse. He flung it upon the desktop, where it landed with a thud.
“There’s coin in there, Tom Preston; not enough to set you up for life, but enough to pay for six months of your wages. And if you do a simple task for me, you’ll get another such purse. And if the task is completed to my satisfaction, yet another. A fair wage, eh, lad?”
“Fair enough,” was the cool, noncommittal answer. “Who do you want me to murder?”
The older gentleman allowed himself to be consumed with mirth. The enormous woman rocked with laughter. But a moment later the room was still again.
“No. I’m not such a fool,” Mr. Cribb said, all traces of laughter gone. “You know my dear little cousin, Jess, don’t you?”
“Your ward, yes,” the young man answered, still coldly.
“Not my ward anymore, there’s the point.” The older man became agitated enough to half-rise from his seat. “For I’ve a document from a fine London lawyer says that Red Jack left his daughter to the guardianship of his dear old friend Sir Selby. That’s naught,” he said, sinking down, as though speaking to himself. “I can get my man of law on that, if need be. But I said to Tilda, ‘What’s this?’ First she’s off to collect some fortune her dear pa’s left her, and then I get such a letter. Something’s in the wind. I can smell money, Tom Preston, and such doings tell me, mad as it sounds, that Red Jack left more than this old house and debts. Something fine someone’s trying to diddle poor old Cribb out of. There’s where you come in, lad. I want you to go to London and sniff it out. I’ve eyes. The girl’s half-boy, but the half that’s female notices Tom Preston, don’t it?”
The young man did not bother to deny this. He only sat, his head half-inclined, listening.
“So you are the lad to discover all. I want you to go to London, she’ll greet you warmly enough,” the older man said as his wife chuckled, “and discover what’s toward. There’s your first purse. If she’s coming into something, I want you to tell me, and there’s your second purse. If it’s a fortune, there’s your third purse. What do you say?”
“I say,” said the lean young man, rising swiftly, “that if Jess is to inherit something, it is about time. And as I knew Red Jack and called him friend, I won’t spy on poor Jess for you. Good day, Mr. Cribb.”
“Fine talk,” his host called after him, “but you’ll be back, I’ll only give you till tomorrow, and then I’ll find another way. So it makes no difference to me. But you’ll be back, for you’re a likely lad.”
It was shortly before midday, the next day, when the doors to the study swung open and Tom Preston walked in. This time he strode in and did not take a seat. The two facing him seemed not to have stirred since the last interview. They must, he thought, eat and sleep and, heaven help us, even make love, but they did not appear to have moved a pace since he had last seen them. He wasted no time in conversation and avoided his new employer’s eye as he reached for the purse that still lay upon the desk where it had been flung the previous day.
“I’ll leave tomorrow at dawn,” he said calmly. “You need only to give me her direction.”
The older man did not show surprise, nor did he gloat, he simply handed a piece of paper over the desk and said abruptly, “I knew my man. As soon as you get the facts of it, come back to me. If it takes a long time, send me a letter each week. You don’t have to sign it. But find out what treasure it is that Red Jack left. And then let me worry about how to get hold of it.”
“Done,” said the fair-haired young man, and without a farewell he strode out of the study, out of the house, and out into another clear spring day.
6
Jessica sat in the salon, awaiting her morning caller. She sat demurely, with a small volume of poems upon her lap, and her feet were placed carefully beneath her chair, toe to toe, heel to heel, neither crossed at the ankles nor tapping with impatience. Her hair was neatly brushed and tied at the back so that the careful fall of locks cascaded against the nape of her neck, their radiant hue a picturesque contrast to the quiet blue of her frock. She seemed all that was correct and seemly. No one could know that she was quaking inwardly like a raw recruit, she berated herself, on the eve of battle.
Her hostess, who sat silently flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine, was well-pleased, if a bit surprised by her difficult guest’s new affect. She could not have known how many long and midnight hours had accounted for it. For Jessica had vowed to spend what little remained of her sojourn in London in as quiet a manner as possible. She had finally concluded that in order to do that, she must leave off trying to actually communicate with the persons she was forced to have daily communion with. If she were thereby to be deprived of friendship and honest dealings with her fellow creatures by these efforts, then that was the price she must pay.
Her encounter with Lord Leith had badly shaken her. For she had thought she had found a friend, been sure she had discovered someone in this great metropolis who at least understood her. He had seemed to have taken her just as she had come. But then, just two days past, he had betrayed and insulted her by an embrace and a kiss.
Now, as she awaited his arrival, she felt only anger. But the anger was not directed so much toward the tall gentleman she had thought to call friend, as it was toward herself. She was even angrier because for the first time she did not fully understand herself.
She had flown off to London to collect her fortune. From that moment onward, events had conspired to put her thoroughly at sea. Now, for the first time, she was forced to realize that she had no idea of what her future was to be even when she got her hands on the legacy her father had left her. She had thought neither of marriage nor of any sort of useful employment for her later life. She was simply unprepared for the future. For all that she had wished to be a boy when Red Jack had been alive, so that she could w
in his complete approval and go adventuring with him, she found now that she had no desire to be anything but what she was. But what precisely that was, was now the question.
She had hoped at least that she could go on being just Jess Eastwood as she had done all these years. But Jess Eastwood herself had turned traitor to her.
When Tom Preston had kissed her good-bye, she had been shocked by the force of the emotions that the simple pressure of another creature’s lips upon her own could cause. Those brief seconds of unexpected response had cracked her image of herself as a sensible young person. Lord Leith’s embrace had completed the destruction of the image, for his kiss had shattered the picture completely. At first, she had been coolly observant, wondering at how such a large, strong gentleman’s mouth could be so soft, velvet, and gentle. But then, just seconds later, she had forgotten her role of observer and had felt only a strange and giddy welling of her senses till he had left off. She had lashed out at him, thinking his kiss a low unfair ploy to silence her logic and point out to her what an inferior creature she was. Only later, when she was alone, did she realize that, whatever his aims, she had frightened herself far more than he had.
Jessica chanced a glance over at her hostess. Then she repressed a sigh. She would have dearly loved to be able to discuss the matter with another, older female. But Lady Grantham was the tall gentleman’s aunt. Ollie would be embarrassed at the very thought of such a conversation, and however much she loved him, somehow she knew that even if her father were still alive, it would not have been a subject she could have spoken of with him. Somehow, she felt sure he would have been disappointed in her. Curiously, the one person she felt would have been best able to advise her was the one person she could never even broach the matter to. And he was expected momentarily.
Thus, when Lord Leith was announced, Jessica hardly knew where to look as he strode into the salon. While he was making his bow to his aunt, she tried to get her countenance under control. At last she ventured to lift an impassive face and greet him so coolly that she was surprised and delighted at her own sangfroid.
“Good morning, Jessica,” he said affably enough, with a smile playing upon those well-remembered lips. “Are you ready for our excursion? It’s been decided to show you some of the sights you’ve had to miss while you’ve waited for Madame Celeste to complete her labors. We’ve got the marbles Elgin toted back from Greece at the top of the list, then the museum and the Tower, and then just some general sightseeing to round out the day.”
“Quite ready,” Jessica replied so tersely that Lady Grantham wondered whether the girl thought she was to be dragged to the Tower to be incarcerated there for life. But her nephew gave each lady an arm and they strolled out to his carriage.
It was another mild, sweet spring day, one of a string of days that seemed to have been given to the populace as if in apology for the cruel winter they had survived. The fine weather, the happy mood of the city, and Lord Leith’s oblivious attitude soon put Jessica into a better frame of mind. By the time they were perambulating the halls of the museum she was beginning to both forget and enjoy herself.
While Lady Grantham halted to chat with a large elderly female in a violet turban, which Jessica winced to see, remembering that she had requested just such a one not too long since, Lord Leith urged her to accompany him to see a remarkable work at the end of the corridor. Once far from her hostess, Jessica found herself facing a very ordinary landscape, one, moreover, that was to her countrygirl’s eye singularly unrealistic, since it showed one lone sheep moodily grazing over a burnt-umber meadow. She gazed up at her escort with a frown of confusion.
“Yes,” he said ruefully, “admittedly an inferior work. The poor animal would starve in a week if he were forced to consume such unhealthy-looking fodder. But it’s not the picture I wanted to speak to you about, its only merit lies in the fact that, at the moment, it is deservedly far from any human eye or ear. Look, Jess,” he said quickly, surprising her by using the name he had said was not seemly, “I don’t wish to spend half our time together apologizing to you. Let’s have done with it. I do regret my actions the other day. I misjudged you and I do promise that it will never happen again. Unless,” he said jokingly, “you request it of me, of course. But quite seriously, Jess, let us be true friends and have done with apologies. Lord,” he said, looking past her shoulder, “I thought Old Rigby would be good for an hour’s gossip. Worse luck, they’ve done already. What say you, Jess? Friends, then, and all past misunderstandings forgotten? For I’ve your best interests in mind, believe me. Be a good fellow and accept my surrender.”
Jessica smiled and quickly breathed, “Of course.” Then, when his aunt came abreast of them, Lord Leith took their arms and strolled the halls with them in tandem.
He had confused her yet again, Jessica had one moment to think. For she found herself both vastly relieved at his apology and eager to be his friend again, and yet there was something in his words and new comradely manner that strangely vexed her. But she had no time to brood over her admixture of feelings, for he was an excellent, diverting guide. He kept both ladies in high good humor, being both knowledgeable and amusing. He transformed antique works that were being reverentially and quietly contemplated by others, to exhibits that had them laughing and chuckling together.
Lady Grantham was pleased to see that all was going well again with the two junior members of her party. Once the girl relaxed, she was a charming, genial companion. Though Jessica had never traveled, nor had been properly educated, she had obviously read a great deal and had a quick wit. It was almost, the elder lady reflected, as though she were touring with two merry young blades, there was so much gentle joshing and good fellowship going forth.
They were greeted by a host of acquaintances as they walked, for all wanted speech with the trio that seemed to be having such an immoderately good time by simply viewing the art treasures of the realm. Lord Leith noted with wry amusement that the gentlemen who stopped to chat with him seemed to be in general agreement about what was one of the greatest new art treasures on view. She did look lovely, he thought, with her animated face, supple form, and unusual hair. But when he called her attention to a redhaired female painted by Titian and idly remarked that she ought to consider wearing such garments, she dismissed the gauzy-clad voluptuous figure by saying lightly, “Lud, Alex, I have no doubt Madame Celeste would comply, but that gear looks a bit drafty for an English spring.”
Lady Grantham muttered something about “Indian manners” and led them off to the Roman rooms. It was when they were leaving the gallery of statuary that his aunt commented disapprovingly that it was a mean exhibition of sculpture, for there wasn’t a one among them that wasn’t maimed in some fashion. Since Jessica was at that moment gazing at a woman’s figure that not only lacked an arm and two legs, but had also dropped off a nose somewhere in its travels through the ages, she could not suppress a giggle when Lord Leith answered airily that the ancient Romans were notoriously fond of mutilating their womenfolk.
“Their men, as well.” Jessica laughed, pointing toward a marble depiction of an athlete who lacked sufficient limbs to run the race he was clearly preparing for. “It’s no wonder Rome fell when so many of the men lacked the necessary appendages.”
“Why, Jess,” he drawled slowly, “that’s a subject well-bred young persons are supposed to ignore. It does account, however,” he said, looking over to the statue she indicated, “for the fact that they were eventually outnumbered here in Britain. Our fellows were not so deprived.”
Jessica did not know what he was referring to and was surprised when Lady Grantham slapped at her nephew and said haughtily, “Naughty fellow. If you don’t stop talking so warm, I shall toss you out and hire a proper guide.” Seeing Jessica’s confusion, the lady explained, “Alex would notice, of course, that the poor fellow lacks a fig leaf.”
While her two companions laughed and strolled on, Jessica looked back and at last realized that the statue was missi
ng yet another part. Only then did she feel the warm blood rising to her cheeks. Her escorts, noticing how late realization had come to her, exchanged conspiratorial grins.
Amazing, Lord Leith thought as he watched his aunt and her young guest halt to greet a couple of acquaintances and saw how greedily the gentleman eyed Jessica and how oblivious she was to him. It is truly amazing both how little she knows of men, though she apes them in manner, and how much less she cares about her own impact upon them. She probably does believe that all that benighted Roman fellow is missing is his fig leaf. It is rather a shame, he thought, rather as if someone had given a rare Stradivarius to a tone-deaf man. All that beauty and appeal are completely wasted upon her.
It was lucky for him, in a way, he mused, that she was not up to all the feminine rigs, for had she been, his action of the other day might well have resulted in his speedy engagement to be married. Had she set up a screech when he had kissed her, in all honor he would have been committed to her. One simply did not attempt to embrace a respectable young female in her own parlor. But it turned out her reaction spoke more of incipient murder than of wedlock. As for her immediate response, that he had lost in contemplation of his own jolt of surprise. He had not kissed her just because she had looked so tempting. In all honesty, he had, he suspected, been somewhat startled by her railing against the privileges of his gender, and he had used the embrace as a sort of object lesson in the obvious difference between them. So be it, he thought. London is filled with women who do welcome a man’s attentions. He refused to contemplate the matter further, and was only glad that he had smoothed over the incident.
Still, he thought, watching Jessica as she spoke happily about the sights she had seen to young John Percy, and that budding rake half-listened to her words and eyed her up and down, if she wants no lover it is apparent that she stands in need of a friend. And that, Lord Leith vowed as he came forward to engage the young man in conversation before his aunt caught the direction of Percy’s wandering eyes and gave him a sharp set-down, it is easy enough for me to be.
