Red Jack's Daughter

by Edith Layton

  “She would not have had to fight for me when she left,” Jessica said soberly, “for my father was off to battle and she was alone with me.”

  “But, Jessica,” Anton persisted, “those were dangerous times. Perhaps she was willing to endanger herself, but she could not bring herself to so expose an infant. I cannot say, for the subject of her baby was too tender for any of us to bring up to her. But I know that she would never, never have wished to leave you if she could have helped it.”

  Jessica sat silently for a moment. Anton’s suggestion was one that had not occurred to her, and she turned and asked, “Do you think so, Anton? Truly, do you think that was the case?”

  “If you had known her,” he answered soberly, “you would not ask that of me.”

  “Of course,” Jessica said rapidly, “it makes no difference now, for they are both gone. But to think that perhaps I had two loving parents, all the while ... It is a comforting thought.”

  “That is what I am here for, Cousin,” Anton said softly, “to bring you the comfort of a family. And now, too much serious talking,” he said abruptly, his large dark eyes lit with laughter. “Now I must think of some way to divert you, Cousin, for when you frown like that, you are too British for me. No, I must make you laugh again, then I feel as though I have known you forever. Ah, but if I could see you dance, just once, I would know you were truly my cousin.”

  “Then you shall just have to wait till we attend a ball.” Jessica giggled, thinking that would be a rare sight, Red Jack’s daughter waltzing and capering like a giddy miss.

  “But there is no need to wait,” Anton cried, catching her hand and making her rise with him. He placed a hand on her waist, never letting go of her other hand, and in moments he was circling the floor with her, humming the notes to the most popular new waltz from the Continent. After her initial surprise, she relented and they glided past tables, threaded their way through thatches of chairs, and wound about the room, dancing and laughing together.

  This close to each other, the family resemblance, which had been superficially belied by their distinctly different coloring, was apparent, at least to one silent spectator. For though Jessica was fair when Anton was dark, they were of an even height and were matched in the delicate fine-boned structure of their faces and in their lithe grace.

  Jessica tossed back the flaming hair that had escaped to cover one eye, and her long white neck bent back like a stem supporting the weight of an exotic showy scarlet bloom. Anton pulled her closer and his own dark head threw a shadow upon that snowy neck. How long they would have gone on there was no telling, but the humming and the laughter stopped abruptly when a deep laconic voice drawled, “Bravo!”

  They stopped instantly in their tracks and looked to the door, where Alexander, Lord Leith, stood, his broad shoulders leaning negligently against the frame.

  “No, don’t stop,” he said casually. “It was quite a performance. Are you practicing for some future party? I do hope I will be invited.”

  “We were only dancing,” Jessica said nervously, pulling far away from Anton and looking as flustered as if they were indeed doing something as intimate as Lord Leith’s set face and sarcastic tone implied.

  “Jessica,” Anton said earnestly, “is quite as good a dancer as her mother was.”

  “Is she?” the tall gentleman mused. “Pity I never got a chance to discover that. She refused me, you see, the only time I asked.”

  “I was only trying to prove to her that she had that talent,” Anton said, now seemingly contrite as he gazed anxiously at the gentleman. “Have I overstepped good manners? Dancing is not considered fast at home, you see.”

  “Nor here either,” Lord Leith said softly, “at a dance, that is.”

  Jessica cut through Anton’s hurried apologies for any lapse in taste and said, “But we weren’t expecting you, my Lord. That is to say, dash it all, Alex, why have you come?”

  “Very hospitable,” Lord Leith said.

  “I don’t mean that,” Jessica cried in agitation, “and well you know it.”

  Her further flurry of explanations was cut off as he raised a white hand. “I only came to discuss travel arrangements with you, Jessica,” he said calmly. “Have you forgotten we leave for Griffin Hall tomorrow morning?”

  “Also!” Anton exclaimed. “I myself had forgotten. Can you excuse me, please, Cousin, my Lord? I must see to my valet and my packing.”

  “You needn’t run off,” Lord Leith said dryly.

  But Anton, now all haste to go, said, “But there is need. I do not wish for your good aunt to have to wait a moment for me in the morning.”

  After kissing Jessica’s hand and bowing to Lord Leith, Anton fairly flew from the room.

  “Sorry to have routed your dancing partner,” Lord Leith commented as he seated himself and cast one glance at Jessica’s flushed face.

  “There really was nothing to it,” Jessica said defensively as she positioned herself in a chair across from him.

  “Of course not,” he said idly, inspecting the tip of his Hessians. “What could there be to it? Two cousins dancing? Do you think you will like it, then, in Vienna?”

  Jessica sprang from her seat as though stung. “I am not going to Vienna, my Lord,” she said. “Anton merely showed me how my mother was used to dance. Dancing with someone is not a commitment to anything.”

  “Calm yourself,” the gentleman said with a trace of amusement, “I never said it was. Although, from the way you are carrying on now, I do begin to wonder.”

  Jessica sat and tried very hard not to show her rage. Why was it, she thought furiously, that he always made her feel she must justify herself? She paused and then said in a calm voice, “What time are we leaving, then?”

  “Very good.” He laughed. “No, don’t fly up into the boughs again, Miss Eastwood. I’m only complimenting your good manners. I had no right to pull your leg. But what was I to think when I entered the room and found you two locked in each other’s arms, dancing to unheard strings. Really, Jessica, I wondered if I had lost my hearing or you your wits.”

  “I must have,” Jessica sighed, glad to hear his normal voice again, “but Anton is so persuasive.”

  “Indeed he is,” Lord Leith said carefully, and then went on to discuss the arrangement of the carriages and the number of outriders for the next day’s journey. They decided that Jessica would sit with Lady Grantham in the lead carriage, and that they would allow Sir Selby to ride alongside upon his favorite mount only long enough for him to prove he was still a hearty campaigner before they called him into the carriage. They laughed immoderately at the ruses they would use to achieve this end. Soon Jessica found herself completely in charity with her visitor again.

  “I didn’t know,” she interrupted as he began to detail a ruined abbey they must plan to visit in July, “that you intended to stay so long. That is,” she said as she noted his curious look, “I thought you were only going to see us settled in and then dash back to town.”

  “Do you think me such a town beau, then?” he asked. “No. I usually leave London for the whole of summer and often find I must force myself from the land when the leaves begin to turn. In fact,” he went on, stretching out his legs, “I have been occupied with building a house for myself not two leagues from Aunt’s for these past three years. It is almost done with now. We’ll have to ride over one day and spend the night. All of us, that is.” He smiled.

  “But building a house?” Jessica asked. “I had thought that you would have had a family seat, you know, just as your aunt does.”

  “I did,” he said thoughtfully, “but you see, it is my brother’s now. I had to sell off my own meager property years ago. You remember I told you how shockingly expensive my brother was. Don’t look so sorrowful, my estate was only a small holding, and as I never spent time there, it was no wrench to rid myself of it when the need arose. But now that I’m a gentleman of parts, I’ve occupied myself with providing my heirs a proper sort of home.
And the advantage is that I’ve helped to design it all myself. The disadvantage is then when I discover a drafty chimney, I can’t heap abuse upon some ancestor’s head for its deficiencies.”

  As he went on to describe his new home and the lake that lay beside it, Jessica watched him closely. It was curious that times such as these, when they were in harmony, were times when she felt the most wary of him. It was as though she could never be completely at ease with him, as she could be with Tom or her cousin. But why this was, she could not say. When he relaxed, his strong features softened, his gray eyes held no threat, and his curved mouth lost its arrogant contour. As she found herself watching that mouth and wondering at whether its color was actually a pale lavender or rather a soft rose, she realized the trend of her thoughts and jerked her head up so that she looked him in the eye. As that was no better, she fell to examining a fold in her skirts. “And of course, the stables are well away from the house and Lord, I’m boring you to flinders, aren’t I?” He chuckled.

  “No,” she protested, “not at all. It must be a rewarding project to undertake.”

  “I’ve found it so,” he said. “And do you know the best part?” As she hurriedly shook her head in the negative, he went on, “When I stood beneath its rafters for the first time, I had the most delightful notion. As the first occupant, I shall have the honor of being the first ghost. Well,” he said with a smile, noting her shocked expression, “in any other great house, I should have to spend eternity shouldering aside all manner of previous occupants if I want to get up to a good night’s haunting. But at Bright Waters, I will have seniority. Can you just imagine some future Lord Leith quaking in his bed as I rattle down the long hall I designed? Or some nanny in a far-off generation ordering my great-grandchildren to eat their porridge or old Alex will get them? Or guests being shown the head of the dining table with a quaking finger and being told, ‘Here is where old Alex fell; stone cold dead after his last drink of port. On this very spot. And you can still hear him roaming the house on windy nights, looking for another glass.’ ”

  While he laughed, Jessica could not. She suddenly felt great pity for the beleaguered boy who had to sell off his birthright and toil for years in a far-off land until he could build another home. She sorrowed for his loneliness, envisioning him standing in his unfinished house able to think only of his demise.

  So it was in the spirit of trying to cheer him, and not, she afterward told herself again and again, to dispel the discomforting mood of intimacy that had overtaken her, that she said quickly, “But surely you will have someone with you,” she blurted. “You are not going to leave Miss LaPoire all alone when you take up residence there?”

  “Miss LaPoire?” he said, sitting up straight and glaring at Jessica. His mouth, she saw, was now rigid.

  “Why, yes, your lady,” she began, until she saw the look in his eye.

  “How dare you mention her name!” he thundered, leaping to his feet and towering over her.

  Jessica stood as well. Although he was enraged enough to cause her to catch her breath, his swift change of mood and his presumption in shouting at her caused her temper to flare. When she was angry with him, she noted fleetingly, she felt much better and on firmer ground.

  “How dare you bellow at me!” she cried. “If she exists, I can mention her name. I did not think she was some sort of holy icon.”

  “It is not fit that a young woman speak of such females,” he countered.

  “And why not?” she shrilled, beside herself at the injustice of it. Her words tumbled out as they formed in her mind. “If you can speak of her, why can’t I?”

  “But I did not speak of her, I never would, to a young lady,” he started to say, but she went on, “It is just ridiculous. If she is your mistress—yes, mistress, for I won’t say lady-friend—after all, why can’t I say it if I know it?” she asked, puzzlement beginning to take the edge off her fine fury.

  “Proper young females do not discuss a gentleman’s mistress,” he answered, beginning to lose some of his anger as well as he realized how pompous he sounded.

  “But I’m not a proper young female,” Jessica said as though explaining to a child, “and really, if a gentleman is notorious for having a famous mistress, he shouldn’t become savage when she is brought up in conversation.”

  To her amazement, the irate gentleman before her began to smile. Soon he was laughing heartily. When he had done, he put both hands upon Jessica’s shoulders and spoke in a reasonable voice, “Jessica, believe me. What you say makes perfect sense. But also be assured that it is simply not the thing for a young lady to discuss with a gentleman, even if it is true. Which it isn’t,” he added quickly. “Anymore. But you are not supposed to know of such arrangements, much less mention them. Was it your dear friend Tom who told you?” he asked.

  “No,” Jessica said, feeling the weight of his large hand upon her shoulders. “No, it was my good friend Maria Dunstable, and your aunt too.”

  He grimaced. “Ah, well,” he sighed. “I am sorry I shouted at you, but it isn’t something I care to discuss. At any rate Jessica, a gentleman never asks such a woman to his home. Blast,” he muttered, “I should not even be explaining it you.”

  Jessica looked up at the elegant face before her and drew in her breath. It seemed that his hands tightened on her and that he was going to draw her closer. His gray eyes held a considering look. She closed her own eyes for a moment, thinking he was going to embrace her again as he had another time when he could not explain his point. That thought sent shivers of what she felt were sheer terror through her, and she wrenched away from him.

  “It is not fair,” she said bravely, looking anywhere but into those eyes that could drown her resolve so quickly “that a gentleman may take as many mistresses as he can, but that a lady cannot even mention them. And no,” she went on, “it is not fair to think that one sort of female cannot know about another. We are all females, after all. Would you shout at her if she mentioned me? But that would be nonsense too.”

  He stood and looked at her, and then said quietly, “Jessica, this is not seemly. I’ll leave you now and see you in the morning.”

  As he turned to go, she whispered, “But can’t you see? It is ridiculously unfair, is it not?”

  And because for the first time he realized that it was, he could not answer. He only bowed and left a sorely troubled young woman gazing after him.

  There were many things that Lord Leith had thought to do with his afternoon, many details that he had to clear up before he left the city. One such matter he had thought to take care of in the evening; he now decided, as his long legs took him far from his aunt’s house, he would have to see to it right away. For he was not in the habit of lying, if he could avoid it, to any man or woman.

  It was a short walk to the house, and a shorter step into her bedroom. But he felt as though he had come a long way.

  “My Lord,” she cried when she saw him, “so early in the day? I am delighted. We shall have hours and hours of joy before us.”

  “I’m afraid not, Lucille.” He smiled. “I’m off to the country tomorrow and I’ve only stopped by to bid you adieu.”

  “Au revoir, surely.” She laughed. She looked very well, he thought as she approached him in her misty-blue dressing gown, with her dark hair in artful disarray. But when she began to wrap her arms about his neck, he stepped back.

  “No, no, my dear,” he said, “I speak the truth. I must not tarry today. But I have a little present for you.”

  He withdrew the bank check from his pocket and handed it to her. Although she tried to make it seem as though she only glanced at it before she set it on the table, he saw her eyes widen as she saw the figure written upon it.

  “But surely there is no need for such generosity,” she said, giving up all attempts at ignoring the sum.

  “But there is,” he said, “for it is not only to compensate you for the time I will be gone. There is enough there, I believe, to give you ample leisur
e to select a new companion.”

  She sighed softly. She had known that this moment was coming from the infrequency of his visits of late. She had been sure of it the night he had gone off into riotous laughter when she had drawn back the curtain from the mirror over her bed. Mistress LaPoire had been in her profession long enough to know that though laughter might be the sweet balm of love, it was a death knell to fascination. But still, it was hard to let him go. There would be others, many others; she did not depend on youth or looks for her continuing career. But she was loath to part from him.

  “I suppose,” she said coquettishly, “it is that scarlet-haired young pretty you’ve been escorting around the town. I imagine you decided it’s time to set up a nursery. But really, my Lord, even so, there is no need to completely sever our pleasant association.”

  He cut her off with an upraised palm. “My dear,” he said harshly, “it is not a proper thing for you to mention, is it?” But he did not hear her reply, he was so startled to hear the echoing of his own words in his mind.

  “No, quite right,” she said with uncharacteristic spite. “Mustn’t acknowledge her existence, must I?”

  But she recovered herself quickly and only said in a placating manner, “Well, then, I thank you, my Lord. Should you care to stay on for a while today?”

  “No, no, thank you, Lucille,” he answered brusquely, bedeviled by his own thoughts and by the strange cold way he could say farewell to someone whom he had shared such intimacies with.