by Georgie Lee
Jane stiffened. ‘With all the credit the tailor extends you, one would think you possessed ample experience handling money, and debts. How proud your father must be of your ability to spend his hard-earned money on your clothes.’
‘As proud as your brother must be of paying his spinster sister’s milliner bills. You couldn’t even land staid Milton Charton of all people.’
‘I’m holding out for better prospects than the limited ones before me.’ How dare a man whose waistcoats were of more use to his father than he was pass judgement on her or Philip’s worth. She made a motion to leave, but he stepped in front of her.
‘As much as I don’t care for your brother or his moneylending ilk, for the right price I’d gladly take you off his hands.’ He swept her with a lascivious gaze which would have made a lesser woman blush.
She didn’t so much as twitch, but stared him down the way she would a slug crawling on one of the rose bushes. ‘What an honour to be added to the long list of other wealthy women in the Fleet who’ve spurned you.’
His lip dropped down to cover his yellow teeth. Before he could answer with what she imagined would be a less than witty response, the door to Philip’s office opened and the elder Mr Stilton, sharing his son’s long face and displaced front tooth, emerged smiling from inside. ‘Thankfully the better sort are hungering for my particular brand of cheddar, otherwise I don’t know where we’d be. Thank you again for your assistance, Mr Rathbone.’
Mr Stilton grabbed Philip’s hand and shook it vigorously before coming down the hallway to stand beside his son. ‘Miss Rathbone, how wonderful to see you this morning. I hope my son wasn’t being too cheeky with you, although if he was I wouldn’t mind. Chester, you couldn’t do better than to have an interest in Miss Rathbone. The girl is as sensible as she is pretty. What do you say, Miss Rathbone, any interest in my boy?’ He clapped Chester on the back, failing to notice the chill between Jane and his son.
From over the elder Mr Stilton’s shoulder Philip shook his head ever so slightly. Jane hardly needed the warning. Chester might feel he’d finally hit the bottom of the matrimonial barrel, but she wasn’t so desperate, yet.
‘Thank you for your kind offer, Mr Stilton, but I’m afraid my interests lie elsewhere.’
‘More’s the pity.’ Mr Stilton shook his head, then turned to Philip.
Jane didn’t hear what he said as she strode off to the dining room, doing her best to appear dignified. Once out of view, she stormed inside and up to the sideboard, immediately garnering Laura’s attention.
‘Jane, what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, except for the yellow-toothed wastrel of a cheesemonger who decided to insult me this morning.’ She scooped out a hearty helping of eggs and smacked them down on her plate, wishing the china was Chester’s face and the spoon something more substantial. Jane marched to her place at the table beside Laura and tossed down her plate, causing some of the egg to spill over the side and on to the polished surface. She dropped into the chair the footman held out, her one comfort being the cup of black coffee he set beside her plate. She stared at the dark liquid, wondering if she could slip some brandy into it without anyone noticing. It would take the edge off her anger and the disappointment in herself.
There’d been a grain of truth in Chester’s insult. She was a spinster and time was not improving her situation or her prospects. When she’d held Jasper’s hand last night, she’d wondered if her fate was about to change, but it hadn’t. Despite his insistence, and her gut feeling, a morning like this one made it hard for her to believe the fault was with Jasper and not her.
‘Don’t let him get to you.’ Laura laid a calming hand on Jane’s arm. ‘You’re a wonderful young lady and some day the right man will come for you. You’ll see.’
‘When?’ Jane demanded, poking the eggs with her fork.
‘I don’t know, but we’ll put our minds to it and find you someone, or at the very least, something to entertain you. Perhaps you could stay with my mother for a while? She might introduce you to some of the new surgeons Dr Hale is training.’
‘You mean men who haven’t heard about my being thrown over?’ She shouldn’t be sulky with Laura. It wasn’t her sister-in-law’s fault she was on the shelf. If she weren’t so bold with her opinions and insistent on having her way, she might not be in this situation. She could only imagine how many young men who’d been trounced by her during debates on stocks must be gloating at this comeuppance.
‘That’s not what I mean,’ Laura clarified, more understanding than annoyed. ‘But you could help her. It might take your mind off—’
Thomas, William and Natalie came barrelling into the room, talking at the tops of their voices. Judging by the dirt on Natalie’s dress and the dust on the boys’ shoes they’d been playing in the garden.
‘Mama, Mama, Thomas pulled Natalie’s pigtails,’ William, the youngest boy, lisped over the noise of his brother and sister trying to get their mother’s attention. The bedraggled young governess sagged against the doorjamb to the dining room before she recovered herself and entered, keeping to the rear, knowing Laura preferred to be involved in most of the children’s issues. Unlike many mothers, Laura didn’t relegate the children to the second-floor nursery not to be heard from until it was time to be presented to their parents. Instead, they ran openly through the house like whirlwinds, as Jane, Milton and Jasper used to do.
‘No, I didn’t,’ Thomas insisted, with all the seriousness of Philip and Jane. His hair was lighter like his mother’s, while his younger half-sister and -brother had the darkness of Laura’s.
‘William started it,’ Natalie accused.
‘No, I didn’t.’ The little boy took a swing at his sister and the two of them were back to squabbling.
Jane tried not to sigh while she waited for the row to die down, but the children were insistent in their quarrel. Laura threw Jane an apologetic look which begged her to be patient, but Jane was tired of waiting. With a half-understanding smile, she left her coffee behind and fled the chaos of the dining room for the quiet of the hallway. In the past she and Mrs Hale would have crept off to the garden to discuss the matter. There was no one to speak with now. She wandered past her brother’s office to the back door leading to the garden. The Stiltons were gone and Philip sat behind his desk, speaking with his warehouse manager about some goods he’d been forced to seize from a client who’d defaulted on a loan. If Philip had been alone, she might have at last talked to him. She needed to speak with someone, to believe there might be one person who’d listen and give some attention and priority to her concerns. The truth was, there was no one.
Jane wandered out into the garden. She stopped at the edge of the portico and took in the sun falling across the white and red roses bouncing on their stems in the light spring breeze. The sight of the flowers didn’t calm her as it usually did, it only added to her frustration. If her mother were here, she would listen and make Jane a priority as she had when she was six. But her mother and father were gone and it was her fault they’d left.
Stop it. She sat on a bench in the centre of the garden. Frustration, anger and loneliness welled inside her until she wanted to walk through the gardens and knock each bright rose from its stem. She closed her eyes until it passed, but the disquiet accompanying it failed to ease. She wanted a place and life of her own and she had no idea how to find one.
‘Good morning, Jane.’ Jasper’s voice carried over the birds and the distant noise of the streets.
She rose and turned so fast, the garden swam, but Jasper remained stable in the centre of it. ‘What are you doing here?’ She wasn’t sure if she was delighted or distressed by his unexpected arrival.
‘I came to see you.’
‘Well, I’m not sure I wish to see you.’ She crossed her arms over her chest, flattered and irritated all at once. ‘I’ve had enough of c
ondescending gentlemen this morning.’ No matter how impeccably dressed they might be. Jasper, like young Mr Stilton, was no stranger to his tailor, but there was a muted elegance to his dress the gaudy young cheesemonger lacked.
‘Tell me who’s ruffled your feathers and I’ll pummel him for you.’ He said it with a smile, but she caught a hint of seriousness in the slight narrowing of his eyes. If only she could set him on Mr Stilton. The cheesemonger’s son deserved a beating.
‘He isn’t worth bruising your knuckles.’ A little hope fluttered in her chest. He’d risen rather early this morning to seek her out and she suspected it had something to do with last night. ‘I assume you’re here to discuss more than my morning’s conversations.’
‘I am.’ He motioned to the bench.
She dropped down on the stone, the coolness of it seeping through her morning dress. He sat down beside her, the heat of his body noticeable against the chill of the spring morning. ‘Well? What brought you here?’
Unlike most people, he didn’t flinch or scowl at her directness.
‘I’ve given a great deal of thought to what we discussed last night and I’ve realised you’re right.’ He stretched out his legs. His boots covered his calves before stopping just below his knees and the polish reflected the grey of the house. ‘I need your skills and talents, your knowledge of the Fleet and business. And what more could a man ask for then a friend for a wife?’
Her heart raced so fast she thought she might have to run around the garden to calm it. He wants to marry me, to have me help him with his club.
She smoothed the front of her dress with the air of aloof uninterest Philip had taught her to assume when haggling with difficult merchants. She might have proposed first, but she wasn’t going to jump at his offer like some desperate spinster, or allow her desire to prove people like Chester Stilton wrong lead her into another mistake. ‘So you now believe we’d be good partners?’
‘Yes.’ He clutched the edge of the bench with his gloved hands and flexed his fingers over the stone. ‘When I told you my secret, you didn’t hate me for it or threaten to reveal it. Instead, you understood and wanted to help. You have no idea what that means to me.’
‘Yes, I do.’ She’d held back from telling Philip and Laura so many truths because she didn’t want them to laugh or scoff at her. Jasper wouldn’t laugh. He never had, not even when she’d blurted out how much she’d cared for him nine years ago. He could have been cruel and taunting, but instead he’d been tender and honest, saying he didn’t feel the same way. She was glad for that now. It meant he couldn’t play on her emotions as his brother had. But his honesty didn’t extend to everyone—Jasper was willing to deceive his family about who he really was and what he did for a living. He could easily deceive her, too, about the depths of his affinity for her and his reasons for changing his mind.
‘With your brother’s connections we can secure a common licence and be married by the end of the week and you could start work on the Fleet Street club at once.’ He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. It flowed over her like a warm breeze. ‘Besides, I got a little taste of you the other day and I liked what I sampled. Marry me and there will be more of that, much more.’
A chill raced along her arm and it sparked her curiosity about the more intimate aspects of a union. The idea this could become something deeper than two friends making a bargain hovered between them. It almost made her forget about her objections. Almost. ‘Be serious.’
‘I am serious.’ Jasper didn’t sit back, but rested one elbow on his knee, remaining tantalisingly close. ‘I thought you were, too, after your outlandish proposal which, if I know your brother, got you nothing except some bother.’
‘I was serious.’ She was also scared.
‘Then why resist now?’
She took a deep breath, not wanting to be so vulnerable, but this was no time to hold back. Her entire future rested on this one proposal, and her getting it right this time. ‘I don’t want you to marry me out of some temporary convenience or because I’m an easy solution to your present problems. I don’t want to be forgotten or overlooked the moment you no longer need me and I don’t want you to conceal things from me the way you’ve concealed them from your family. I was embarrassed enough by your brother’s secret when it came out. I don’t want to be surprised by any of yours. I want you to be my friend, my true, real and forthright friend, like you used to be.’
He stared down at the ground, his mirth fading.
‘You can’t do it, can you?’ she challenged, the prickliness she’d first greeted him with returning.
‘No, I can’t talk about everything I experienced in Savannah. Surely you understand.’
She studied him and how the sun and the shadow from his hat darkened the circles under his eyes. Philip had taught her long ago to read people, but she’d never been as talented at it as he was. However, there was no mistaking the depth of Jasper’s pain, one she understood all too well. Like her, there were things he couldn’t talk about either. ‘I do.’
She glanced over her shoulder at the spire of St Bride’s Church rising up over the house and the churchyard where her parents lay.
‘The anniversary was last week, wasn’t it?’ he asked, following her gaze.
She turned back to him, her grief softening. ‘I’m surprised you remember.’
‘How could I forget?’ He had accompanied her every year to lay flowers on her parents’ graves and sat beside her in the churchyard while she’d grieved.
* * *
Jasper studied Jane, wanting to drive away the strife clouding her eyes. He’d never seen her so weak or vulnerable but, like him, their time apart had changed her. She’d been cast aside by his brother, humiliated in front of everyone, then left to linger as a spinster. He wouldn’t treat her so shabbily, but she’d asked for an openness he couldn’t bestow, all the while having no idea what she was asking for. He couldn’t tell her about Mr and Mrs Robillard and risk her recoiling from him. Nor could he embroil her in the business of the hell and make her as dirty as him.
‘Well, Jasper?’ she prodded.
He might not be able to tell her everything about the hell or his past, but he could share his current situation with her—if not the worst parts of it, then certainly the best. He could help her to enjoy life the way he intended to after so much death and find a way to make sure the darkness never touched either of them again. He took her hand and met her steady gaze. ‘I don’t want you for mere convenience. I want you because you are my closest friend. I promise I will respect you as you deserve and be as open and honest with you as I can be.’
A hope he hadn’t seen in anyone, including himself, since well before the epidemic brightened her face. It lightened some of Jasper’s strain. In her innocence, she believed all would be well. With her beside him, perhaps it would be. ‘We must speak to Philip at once so he can make arrangements. I’m sure he won’t object.’
* * *
‘I do not give my consent.’
Jane stared at her brother, dumbfounded. Laura peered back and forth between the couple and her husband, as shocked as Jane. Jasper stood casually beside her, hands crossed in front of him, hat dangling from his fingers as if their future together wasn’t at risk. It irritated her more than it comforted her, adding to her annoyance at Philip’s answer.
‘What do you mean you don’t consent?’
Philip folded his hands over the blotter. ‘I have reason to doubt the veracity of Mr Charton’s interest in you.’
‘The veracity of his interest?’ She forced herself not to shift on her feet and to face him as she would a difficult butcher trying to overcharge her for poor-quality meat. She recognised this look; it was the one he used to give her whenever she’d ask to go to the milliner’s for a new dress. He’d always suspected her of choosing something much too adult for h
er young years, and he’d been right. At thirteen, almost everything she’d done had been to test him, to prove to everyone she was no longer a child but a young woman capable of making her own decisions. It had taken Mrs Hale’s gentle guidance to make her realise she was not yet an adult and there was no reason to look older simply to spite the world. However, she was an adult now and she wouldn’t cave under his scrutiny.
‘He did his best to dissuade you from a union yesterday and now he wishes for your hand. I want to know why,’ Philip explained to her, not Jasper.
‘He wasn’t against it. He was merely surprised by the way I went about discussing the matter. Even you said it was ill-advised.’ Her conceding the point didn’t ease the stern set of her brother’s jaw. ‘Since he’s had some time to consider it, he’s come to realise, as I have, we’re still good friends and it would be a perfect union. Don’t you agree?’ She took Jasper’s hand, demonstrating some affection, but careful not to overdo it. If she told Philip the two of them were madly in love, it would make him even more sceptical.
‘I do.’ The lightness in Jasper’s answer made her wonder if he realised how in danger of having their plans thwarted they stood. She might be over the legal age to marry, but they needed Philip to obtain a common licence and arrange the church, and anyway, she wanted his consent. She was going to have to lie about the true source of Jasper’s income, she didn’t wish also to sneak behind her brother’s back to the altar.
Philip eyed Jasper with hard scrutiny. ‘I’d like to speak with Mr Charton, alone.’
Jane threw Jasper a wary look, but he didn’t appear ruffled by the requested interview. Instead, he nodded to let her know all would be well. She hoped so. The idea of having yet another one of her plans fail irked her.
* * *
‘I can’t believe Philip is being so difficult,’ Jane complained to a sympathetic Laura when they were alone together in the front sitting room.
