Red Jack's Daughter

by Edith Layton

  Jessica had risen to leave with the rest, but Anton’s omnipresent hand upon her wrist had restrained her. When everyone else had left the room, he nodded in satisfaction and confronted her alone.

  “Now,” Anton said with determination, “what is this, Jessica? Hmmm? Suddenly you are a weeping willow, yes? What has happened? I tell my best stories and I cannot get even a little smile from you, so there must be a thing I do not know about.”

  He held her fast, and she could see from the determined look in his dark eyes that he did not mean to let her go until he had an explanation.

  “Oh, Anton,” she said at length, “it is really a very silly thing, and difficult to tell.”

  “So,” he said adamantly, “it is not difficult to listen. I am your family and you must tell me.”

  “It’s very foolish, really,” she prevaricated, but then she said in a rush, “It is only that I have been told, for my own good, of course, that I have appeared to be very giddy, very blatant in my recent actions.”

  At the look of incomprehension writ large upon his dark face, she went on desperately, “I’ve been told I’ve been carrying on like a trollop, with all the giggling and flirting I’ve been doing.”

  Anton’s expression cleared. “I see;” he said at once. “This must be a very English thing. But I assure you, Jessica, you have been behaving perfectly. Who was it, the icy Lord Leith, who told you this? Or the silent Mr. Preston? It makes no matter. I tell you, Jessica, you have been behaving like a lady, and a charming one. Just like your mama.”

  When Jessica averted her head at his words, Anton seemed to grow angry. He stationed himself in front of her. “You cannot help but be like her, Cousin,” he said angrily. “With all that they try to make you otherwise, it is in your blood. You are your mother’s daughter. And where is the harm in a little gaiety? Must all of life be so ... English?” he protested.

  She laughed at that, and he reached out and took her by the shoulders. As they were of a height, she could see directly into his sincere, deep dark eyes.

  “Better,” he whispered, “better still. You are very special to me, Jessica, just as you are.”

  There seemed to be a certain heat in his eyes that she had not seen before. She stepped away and laughed again, with the little toss of her head that he so admired.

  “You are good medicine for me, Anton. But now you must leave me and go to your rooms, or else all the English will think we are up to no good.”

  “Ah, would that were so,” he sighed with a mock despair that made her laugh again. But he left her. And her laughter ceased the moment he did. She stood in thought for a long while until she heard a light tap upon the door. Looking up, she saw the long figure of Lord Leith as he stood in the shadows of the room.

  “Is it so bad, then?” he asked softly.

  When she did not answer at once, he walked up to her and tilted her head up with one long finger. When she gazed back at him with an abstracted stare, he smoothed back a strand of her flaming hair and said quietly, “I give excellent advice, you know.”

  “I know,” she answered distractedly, “but I’ve had too much advice already. It seems some people advise me to be light and gay, and others to be what I was before. Only I can’t recall what that precisely was. Oh, I’m not making any sense,” she concluded, shaking her head in despair.

  “Oh, but you are,” he answered. “And I think the answer is to be whatever you want to be, and damn to what others want.”

  “But what it that?” she whispered. And then, although he had taken no step nearer to her, nor touched her again, she looked up at him and realized that they were alone and very close in an otherwise-empty room.

  “Good night, my Lord,” she said suddenly, and took to her heels as though he had menaced her.

  He stood alone after she had gone and then muttered a curse that would have brought the house down about his ears if there had been anyone to hear it.

  Jessica would have spent the morning abed, brooding over the new single cloud upon her heretofore spotless horizon, if it were not for Amy treading heavily into her room and drawing the curtains back vigorously. The little maid bustled about the room, bumping into furniture and rattling her tray of chocolate and cups with gusto until Jessica could no longer pretend sleep. The moment she opened her eyes, Amy sniffed with satisfaction.

  “Oh, miss,” she said at once, “there’s such news! Your solicitor has come. Only think, he’s all dust-covered. He rode straight from the docks, he says. And he’s got your treasure, he says. Every bit of it!”

  It was lucky that Amy was in the room with her, or Jessica would have flown down the stairs in a night shift. As it was, she could barely contain herself long enough for the maid to do up her buttons and brush out her hair. Though it seemed like hours, it was only moments before Jessica was able to throw open her door and hurry downstairs. And it took every bit of fiber she possessed to slow her steps and calm herself before entering the sitting room, where she heard excited voices talking together.

  Jessica’s eyes widened when she entered. For though it was still an early hour, all of the guests were assembled in the room, and even Lady Grantham, who seldom stirred before noon, was sitting awaiting her. But Jessica had eyes only for Mr. Jeffers and the square black case he had upon his lap.

  “My dear,” Mr. Jeffers said happily, rising to greet her and leaving the box upon a chair, “you look wonderfully. And I have wonderful news. I have located Corporal MacKenzie and he has entrusted the item your father left with him to me. He had some reservations about my papers,” Mr. Jeffers went on, although no one was attending to him, “but in time he came to see that I was to be trusted. He had not opened it since the day it was given to him. As you see, it is still sealed. Now, if you will sign the necessary papers, and you as well, Sir Selby, I can turn the box over to you.”

  “Be damned to the papers,” Sir Selby cried, quite forgetting there were ladies present. “Let’s have a look at it, man!”

  Mr. Jeffers looked about him in growing alarm. He was, it seemed, the center of avid attention and he felt very much like the sole survivor of a shipwreck in a sea boiling with sharks.

  “But,” he protested, unconsciously backing up a bit, “it’s not at all how it’s usually done. Shouldn’t you like to be alone, my dear, and open the box in private?” he asked, appealing to Jessica to do the correct thing.

  “As to that,” Jessica said tightly, “there’s nothing about me or my family that hasn’t been better known to everyone else in this room than myself. There’s no reason to become secretive now. Ollie’s right,” she declared, forgetting her old friend’s title in her excitement, “we have waited long enough.”

  As Mr. Jeffers watched, appalled by the intensity of avarice displayed by the nobility, Sir Selby took up the box and applied a fruit knife to the tight wax seal that fastened down the lid. Lady Grantham stood gazing in fascination as he struggled, until Lord Leith produced a sharp hunting knife from a desk drawer and applied himself to freeing the other side. Anton and Thomas stood waiting expectantly as the two men prized off the seal. Then, as if by common consent, both men stepped back and smiled at Jessica.

  “There you are, Jess.” Sir Selby beamed. “Now it’s only right that you open it yourself.”

  Jessica stepped forward and took the box in trembling hands. For a moment she closed her eyes. She thought of her dear Red Jack sealing the treasure in to await her touch. She thought of his concern, his love, and his face seemed to appear before her, smiling encouragement. Then, the sound of someone in the room giving out a little nervous cough caused her to open her eyes again. She slowly lifted the lid off the box.

  There was nothing but a worn black velvet drawstring bag within. She took the bag out cautiously and gently pulled the strings apart. It had been in the box so long, she fancied she could even breathe her father’s last exhalation as the pouch slowly drew apart. Then she carefully reached in and drew out the object that had lain concealed fo
r all these past weary months since her father had fallen. And then she gasped.

  “It’s only a comb,” she cried. Then, unable to carry the jest further, she said, “Only look!” her voice shaking with relief and awe.

  And they looked, even as she did. Then she laughed and handed it to Sir Selby, whose face instantly wreathed in smiles.

  “Knew he’d do the right thing,” Sir Selby shouted. “Red Jack always honored his debts if he could.” He passed the treasure to Lady Grantham and soon it was going hand to hand about the room as the laughter and glad cries grew louder.

  For it was a treasure, Jessica thought with wild exultation. Only a comb, yes, but what a comb! For surely it had been made to dress a Princess’s hair. Two rows of gems stood out in bold relief above the intricate silver filigree of the comb itself. The first row was of bright-green translucent stones, the second tier of clear, dazzling, sun-catching gems, “Diamonds and emeralds,” Mr. Jeffers said as proudly as if he had manufactured the piece himself. “So Corporal MacKenzie said your father told him it was. Nine fine emeralds and ten fine diamonds. Your father came by it in France a few years ago; doubtless it was worn by the Queen or the Empress herself.”

  But Jessica could not hear his tale of how her father had acquired the comb. Her knees were suddenly weak and she had to catch on to the side of a chair to stand upright. She beamed at Sir Selby and he wrapped his arm about her shoulders. He began to congratulate her, and tell Lady Grantham, with high enthusiasm, how he and Jess had been vindicated. His old friend had been a Prince, after all.

  Jessica was so absorbed in her joy that she did not note the other reactions to her treasure. Thomas Preston held it in his hands and watched its faceted jewels gleam with such a naked look of wonder that it was only when Lord Leith lifted it lightly from his palms that he realized he should have passed it along for inspection long before. He was so chagrined at his gaucherie that he did not see the tall gentleman hold the comb up to the light and frown darkly. Nor did he see Anton take it up when it was his turn and inspect it carefully and dispassionately. For a second, the dark young man frowned as well, but a moment later, his expression was one of unholy glee.

  “Now come, Jess,” Sir Selby chortled. “Everyone’s seen it. You must wear it.”

  After much good-natured jesting, Sir Selby took up the comb again and, as ceremoniously as a King dubbing a knight, placed it upon Jessica’s ruddy locks. She touched it once with shivering fingers to make certain it was secure, and then ran lightly to the glass upon the wall to be sure it was set right.

  She did not see Lord Leith take Mr. Jeffers aside and began to speak earnestly with him in low tones. Nor did she see Mr. Jeffers’ expression change to amazement and then in turn to ire, then to acceptance. She faced the company with misted eyes and tried to make a mock processional march among them, her head held high. The sunlight streaming in through the long windows made the green gems dance with light against her glowing hair, the diamonds spit back sunlight, until it seemed she was crowned by supernatural fires.

  “Of course,” Mr. Jeffers’ voice cut in to all their clamor, “you must give it back to me, Miss Eastwood. For I have to take it straight to London to have it appraised and have the necessary papers drawn up to protect and insure your ownership.” At the groans that were set up, he added, “Then, of course, you may wear it anywhere.”

  “But today, Jess,” Sir Selby cried, “wear it in to breakfast.”

  And dipping and swaying, Jessica took her guardian’s hand and led them all into the breakfast room, so glad in spirit, so excited and absolved that she did not see her solicitor lag behind. Nor see that Lord Leith tarried with him. And as she had led in their little parade, she of course could not hear Lord Leith’s cautionary whisper to Mr. Jeffers as they followed, “But she must never know. Upon my soul, Jeffers, this must be so.”

  15

  That night the music room in Griffin Hall rang to the strains of a laughter it had never contained before it all its long years. For though it had held many sorts of parties, surely none was so full of gladness and relieved celebration as this one was. Jessica drank far too much wine in her exultation, but rather than making her dizzy or sleepy, it seemed each cup was only a drop and her joy was undiminished. Sir Selby capered like a boy and Thomas Preston unbent so far as to even risk singing some of the songs he had heretofore deemed unfit for the company.

  Lady Grantham, her nephew, and Mr. Jeffers had a long talk early in the evening, and now they watched the merriment, even joining in from time to time, but there was no way that their participation could equal that of the others. It was curious that Anton, who had been their quasi-official court jester until now, was overshadowed by the outrageous hilarity of the others. But, if anyone chanced to think upon it, it was only natural, after all. He had not known the gallant Captain Eastwood, and he could not feel the surge of happiness in knowing that the fellow had come through at the end. And then, too, he was sophisticated enough to realize that he was a visitor and that this night was made for others to make much of.

  The hour had grown so late that even trained footmen were hard put not to stifle their yawns, when Lady Grantham dropped a quick word into Sir Selby’s ear. He reluctantly rose and interrupted Jessica and Tom as they discussed, for the fifth time that night, how clever Red Jack had been to purchase the comb from a fleeing émigré.

  “All good things,” he intoned, taking care not to slur the words, “mus’ come to ’n end. ‘Our revels now are ended. ’S time to go to bed, don’t y’ know?” He chuckled.

  When Jessica and Tom turned disbelieving faces toward him, he went on plaintively, “Why, jus’ look at the dear Lady. She’s dropping ’n she’s too p’lite to say it. Mus’ go to bed,” he proclaimed, a bit mawkishly, in his present state almost ready to drop a tear for his hostess’s bravery in the face of exhaustion. “ ’S late, don’t you know?”

  Jessica rose and giggled. “Oh, I’ll go,” she said happily, “but I wish this night would never end. But you’re right, Ollie, it is late. But I shall go,” she went on, wondering why she could not seem to come to the end of her statement. “But,” she added more brightly, remembering what it was she had to say, “I shall wear my comb all night. I shall wear it for the rest of my life. Always. Even in the bath,” she confided loudly to Tom.

  Lord Leith smiled down at her. It was odd, she thought, how he just seemed to appear from out of nowhere, for the last time she had looked, he had been lounging against the mantelpiece, watching them.

  “I’m afraid not, Jessica,” he said slowly, but clearly and distinctly enough for her to hear even over the peculiar fogging in her ears. “You see,” he said gently, “Mr. Jeffers needs to take it to London tomorrow, very early in the morning. And we don’t wish to wake you at that hour, and I’m sure you don’t wish it either.”

  But as Jessica only raised a hand in a protective fashion to touch the comb, he went on, “It’s only a day’s ride there, Jessica. Give us two days to complete the business, and a day’s ride back again. And then you shall have it forever, even to wear in your bath. We must have the proper papers filed,” he added reasonably, seeing her standing immobile, one hand upon the comb in her hair. “You don’t want your cousin Cribb to get it, do you?”

  At that Jessica gasped and tore the comb from its anchoring, spilling a cataract of gleaming red hair across her horrified face as she did so. She pressed the comb into his hands and blurted, “Take it. Take it, then. But please don’t lose it.”

  He laughed as he pocketed it and said easily, “Never fear. I shall accompany Mr. Jeffers, for safety’s sake, and we shall even take two other men to guard it from harm.”

  At that Thomas Preston looked up warily. “I should like to go with you,” he said ruefully, “but you’ve sprung this on me. You shall have to give me some time in the morning to recover from my excesses this night.”

  “And I,” Anton put in excitedly, “shall come too, but I do not know that I shall be of
much help. I am very good with a saber, but do your highwaymen here use those? For I’m not a great good shot with pistols.”

  Lord Leith paused a moment, watching his two reluctant volunteers, and then caused relief to be apparent on both faces when he drawled, “Gentlemen, I assure you I had no intention of asking you to leave this pleasant party. There is no need, after all. We’ll take two stout footmen, and as there are very few daylight robberies on the main London Road, content yourselves, we shall be safe enough. We will be back, Jessica, I promise, within the week.”

  “Thank you,” Jessica said very mistily, thinking both of what a good fellow he was, and also, now that she was standing upright, of how very tired she suddenly was. She was grateful for Lord Leith’s help as he escorted her from the room. She was even more gratified by his strong arm, which became necessary for support as she negotiated stairs that had taken on the nasty habit of fading away just as one was about to set foot upon them.

  “Good night, Jessica. Do not worry,” he said after he had summoned her maid to help her to bed.

  She looked up at his steady gray gaze and found herself about to weep over the extent of his kindness. As Amy urged from very far away that she come to bed, Jessica found that some other person within herself had caused her to reach up on tiptoe and press a quick kiss upon one of Lord Leith’s high cheekbones.

  “Sandalwood!” Jessica exclaimed, leaning upon her doorjamb. At his lifted eyebrow, she explained earnestly, “You smell delightfully of sandalwood, Alex.”

  He laughed and steered her to a clucking Amy. “Good night, my dear.” He bowed. When her door had closed, he paused a moment. And then felt a large hand clapped upon his shoulder.

  “Be ready in the dawn,” Sir Selby said confidentially. “Shouldn’t miss it for the world. Bring m’ pistols too. Show those highwaymen a thing or two, I shall m’boy.”

  “Sleep well, Ollie old friend,” Lord Leith said firmly as he walked Sir Selby to his room, “and do not disturb yourself. All will be well.”