by Georgie Lee
‘Yes, it can.’ Even if Jane wasn’t ready to spill her heart to the woman who whispered across the pillow to Milton, it was a comfort to think someone recognised a little of what she was facing, even if they didn’t know the true extent. It bolstered her confidence. If Camille could face her after what she and Milton had done, then Jane could be as courageous when it came to facing Jasper. She didn’t care if they were at his parents’ house. She wouldn’t run away from her fears any more, or try to act as if they didn’t exist or as if everything was fine. She’d knowingly gone along with his schemes, allowed him to set the tone for this marriage, afraid if she didn’t he would never give her all of himself, but it hadn’t worked. It had exhausted her and she couldn’t allow it to continue. She’d have a true husband and a real marriage.
‘If you’ll excuse me, I must find my husband.’
She had no idea where he’d gone, but she knew the Charton house well. She’d spent hours here with Jasper and Milton as a child, going up and down the servants’ passage to steal sweets from the cook while doing her best to avoid the dancing lessons Mrs Charton had imposed on her and her older girls. Dancing hadn’t interested her and she’d stolen away to find the brothers after the first quadrille. Mrs Charton, seeing the futility of pressing any more lessons on her, had never chased after her or demanded she act like a proper young lady. No one had. She missed the freedom of those old days, especially in regard to Jasper. Her relationship with him had been so simple and straightforward back then without all the complications of secrets, the past and the involvement of her heart.
She headed for Mr Charton’s study, remembering how she’d found Jasper there the night of his going-away party. He’d been contemplating the atlas on the stand near the desk, measuring again and again the distance between London and Savannah, the distance between himself and his family, and her. She’d tried to bolster his spirits, realising then how unlikely it was they would ever see each other again. Storms took ships all the time, as did sickness. Yet he had survived it all. He’d come back to her and made her his wife. She wouldn’t allow the past or another woman or whatever tormented him do what the entire Atlantic had failed to do—separate them for good.
She peered inside the study, relieved to find him here and not on his way to catch a ship to America. He stood before the fireplace, staring at the portrait of Mrs Charton’s siblings from five decades ago. The girls wore the fuller skirts then in fashion, their hair powdered and piled high on their heads. Mrs Charton, her round face fuller but her lively eyes unmistakable, stood holding the hand of her young brother, Patrick, while her elder brother and sister lounged on a nearby chaise.
Jane slipped up beside Jasper, the questions about Mrs Robillard and their future together begging to be spoken, but she held back. She was risking being hurt again and for the pain of abandonment to crush her, but she refused to be left alone and forgotten by the one man who’d pledged before their family and friends to cherish her. Mrs Hale was right, she shouldn’t doubt herself, but being open with anyone about her fears had never been her strong suit, except with Jasper. It was time to put some faith in herself and her old friend again.
‘I had the most interesting conversation with Camille,’ she stated, refraining for once from being blunt and jumping right in. She wanted to avoid startling him or setting him on his guard.
This garnered his attention at last. ‘Camille?’
She nodded. ‘She apologised to me.’
Jasper’s eyes widened. ‘Wonders never cease.’
‘She also wants to help end the trouble between you and Milton.’
Jasper opened and closed his hands where he held them behind his back. ‘If she can manage it, then she’s quite the miracle worker.’
‘I said I’d help her.’
The faint humour in Jasper’s eyes faded as he studied the carpet beneath his feet. ‘That’s very generous of you.’
‘I’m not doing it for her, but for you, although I’m not sure I should.’ She trembled as she met his eyes. Once she broached the subject, there would be no going back. She would face the truth, no matter the consequences, and live honestly with herself and Jasper at last. ‘Who is Mrs Robillard and why are you sending her money?’
* * *
Jasper’s neck tightened, her question striking him as hard as the news about Mr Robillard’s death. Shame welled inside him, fuelled by his family’s censure and the widening gulf between him and Jane. He studied her, a thousand excuses and ways to put her off colliding inside him, along with the temptation to answer her questions. He’d tried to keep his past from her, but she’d discovered something of it and, unlike her concern about the hell, he couldn’t shrug her off or avoid answering her very direct question. The challenge for him to be honest with her at last tinged her steady gaze, along with numerous unspoken accusations.
He rubbed the back of his neck, for the first time understanding why Mr Robillard had done what he had. The shame of facing his mistakes had left him with little choice. Jasper forced his hand down to his side. No, Mr Robillard had been a coward, taking the easy way out and leaving others to deal with the consequences. Jasper wasn’t so cruel or weak. Where Mr Robillard had thrown away all chance to redeem himself, Jasper could reclaim the trust he’d damaged, but in doing so he’d have to show her the darkest parts of himself, the ones even he shied from viewing.
She shifted on her feet and the diamonds around her neck sparkled in the candlelight. They reminded him of her bright eyes the night he’d showed her the hell and her willingness to join with him in all his ventures, good and bad. He’d shown her the basest parts of himself then and she hadn’t run from him. It was time to trust she wouldn’t again and remove at least one of the obstacles he’d put between them.
He turned to the portrait and his uncle’s childish smile. ‘Mr Robillard was a plantation owner who used to gamble at the Savannah hell. A week before the yellow fever really took hold, he lost everything at the tables. The next day, he shot himself, leaving behind a widow with three children and no means of support.’
He could feel her ease beside him as she took in what he said. ‘So you send her money to help her?’
‘It’s the least I can do.’ He reached out and took hold of the mantel, leaning hard against his hand, hesitant to go on, but he had to. Maybe if she could forgive him he could at last forgive himself. ‘I was there the night Mr Robillard lost everything. I was the one who extended him credit, allowing him to continue playing, deeper and deeper until there was nothing left. I’m the one who drove him to ruin and to kill himself.’
She slipped her hand in his free one, squeezing it gently instead of offering him useless condolences or trying to convince him the planter’s death wasn’t his fault. Her silent patience allowed him to continue.
‘After Mr Robillard killed himself, I tried to convince Uncle Patrick to return the plantation to Mrs Robillard, but he wanted to be Lord of the Manor and he wasn’t going to let right or wrong get in the way of his dream. It was the first time I realised how cold he really was. Afterwards, I stormed out of his house, ready to be through with him because he wasn’t who I wanted to be and it wasn’t how I wanted to live. I didn’t see him again until a few weeks later when the fever was destroying the town and his maid came to tell me he was ill. I went back to his house to take care of him, expecting to find him more humble and repentant.’
‘But he wasn’t.’
Jasper shook his head. ‘He blamed me for his illness. Said I could have made sure there was food in the house before there was none to be had, paid the nurse and the maid more money to stay, taken care of him the way he’d taken care of me during my illness the year before.’
‘And still you stayed to see to him.’
He let go of her hand and tugged off the ruby ring. ‘I couldn’t let him die like a lonely dog, even if he did it while cursing me f
or betraying him and everything he’d ever done for me.’ He turned the ring between his thumb and forefinger. ‘After the quarantine ended, I returned the plantation to Mrs Robillard, but with everyone dead there was no one to work it and the land couldn’t support her or her children. By helping her I’m trying to make up for what Uncle Patrick did to them and convince myself I’m nothing like him.’
She cupped his chin and turned his face to hers. ‘You are nothing like him.’
‘Aren’t I?’ He pulled away from her and pinched the ring between his fingers, pressing on it so hard he hoped the metal would bend and the stone would shatter. ‘All the years I was with Uncle Patrick, I did everything I could to emulate him, wilfully refusing to see what he was or what it made me. Then, when I had the chance to walk away from it, I came home and went right back to being a hell owner.’
‘Then give it up, now, tonight.’ She laid a settling hand on his shoulder. ‘Turn it all over to Mr Bronson and walk away. Stop allowing it to destroy you and us.’
He slid the ring back on his finger as a different fear smothered him. The image of a narrow and dark bedroom stinking with sickness and the thick southern air rose up to blot out Jane, while the weakness of hunger and the uncertainty of survival ripped at his gut once more. ‘I can’t.’
She plucked her hand off of him. ‘What do you mean you can’t? If it’s tormenting you this much, you must.’
He glanced at the study door, remembering where they were and who might stumble in on him. He dropped his voice and stepped closer to her. ‘You don’t know what it is like to go without, Jane, to be starving and not be able to buy food, not to be able to escape the death and poverty around you. If I give up the hell and the club fails, we could lose everything.’
‘It would never be so dire. We have our families to help us.’
‘Not if they find out who I really am.’ Chester Stilton’s threat echoed in the silence. Uncle Patrick had concealed his real rottenness for years, but it hadn’t lasted, and neither had the glamour and gain of the gambling room, or even Jasper’s secrets. He touched her cheek, tracing the delicate line of it. ‘I won’t see you suffer the way I saw so many others suffer in Savannah.’
She covered his hand with hers. ‘We’re stronger than this, Jasper, strong enough to face anything thrown at us, but only if we do it together. The hell is pulling you away from me and it will continue to do so unless you give it up.’
‘If we lose the money from the hell, we’d be poor in months.’
‘We can live off my inheritance.’
‘I won’t ruin you.’
‘It’s worth the risk if it helps you.’ She brushed a few strands of his hair off his forehead. ‘Besides, I don’t need fancy jewellery. I only need you.’
He stroked the line of her jaw with his thumb. She was offering him a real chance to be a better man and it increased his guilt. He should have confided in her sooner, drawn her closer instead of trying to keep her away. She was an exceptional woman who deserved respect and love.
Love.
He didn’t say it, but it was there in his eyes as he gazed at her. He did love her and she loved him, but it wasn’t enough. Not even the bonds of family had been able to stop Jasper and Uncle Patrick from falling out, especially when things had turned dire. If he and Jane lost everything, she’d blame him for their misfortune the way Uncle Patrick had blamed him for his. ‘Don’t you understand? I’m doing this for you.’
Jane lowered her hand and stepped back, a loss of hope to remind him of Mrs Robillard filling her eyes. ‘You’re choosing the hell and all the lies and troubles it entails over me and our marriage.’
‘No, Jane, you’re wrong.’ He reached for her hand, but she jerked it back.
‘I’m not. I’ve done all I can to establish the club, but in your mind it’s already sunk before we’ve even opened it.’
‘I didn’t say that. I want out of the hell, but I can’t see the men I employ plunged back into poverty, or risk losing my ability to help Mrs Robillard and her children, and I refuse to place our security or our futures in jeopardy.’
‘And what future would that be? I’ve spent most of this evening fooling your family about our livelihood and about us, and you’ve gone days doing the same to me. You think I don’t know you’re keeping things about the hell from me, things that are bad enough to make you lose sleep and to ask for separate rooms?’
‘I’m doing it to protect you.’
She raised a finger at him. ‘Lie to yourself as much as you wish, but I told you the day we were betrothed I didn’t want you to conceal things from me, or embarrass me the way Milton did with your secrets and deception, and yet that’s all you’ve done. Do you know what it was like to stand before Mr Steed and sign the draft, not knowing if I was giving him permission to send money to your lover? I don’t want to sit around wondering where the next unpleasant surprise will come from or when I’ll be humiliated by you again. The Jasper I used to adore never would have done this to me.’
‘You’re right. He wouldn’t have, but that Jasper is gone. He died in Savannah.’ At one time, he’d wondered who would appear to destroy her faith in him and in the end it hadn’t been anyone but himself. He’d been a fool to think he could return here and redeem himself, and now Jane saw him for the ruined and blighted man he really was. He waited for her to curse him, to rail against him, but she simply stared, as lost today as the morning of her parents’ funeral. He’d comforted her then; he couldn’t do it tonight because he was the one making her grieve.
The fast fall of footsteps in the hall punctuated the silence between them before Giles burst into the room. ‘Jasper, we need you in the sitting room. It’s an emergency.’
Without a word to Jane, Jasper followed Giles out of the room, cursing the interruption. The moment to draw Jane back to him, to find a way out of this mess, had slipped away, taking with it so many things. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Someone Father refused for a loan is here. He’s not happy and he won’t leave.’
‘Why aren’t Father’s men removing him?’
‘Jacob went to fetch them.’
They turned down the hall and made for the sitting room. This wasn’t the first time an irate man with a parcel of debts hanging over him had stormed into the house. It had been years and it made Jasper realise Jane was right about his father’s lax security. He’d have to make sure it was changed. He wouldn’t have his family threatened by anyone.
Then he and Giles turned the corner and Jasper stopped dead on the threshold. Across the sitting room stood Chester Stilton, his bloodshot eyes wider and more frantic than when he’d approached Jasper the other night. His clothes were wrinkled and the aroma of cheap wine hung about him.
‘Ah, here’s your prodigal son now.’ Chester threw out his arms to Jasper, wavering on his feet. ‘He can tell you I’m right. He can confirm everything I’ve told you.’
It was then Jasper noticed the deathly still in the room. The secret he’d feared coming out for so long had been revealed. The evidence was in the faces of his family as they stared at him, especially his father. The disappointment bending his shoulders cut Jasper like a sabre. His mother stared at the rug under her feet, as stunned as the rest of the family by what she’d heard. Everything great and wonderful they’d believed about their son had crumbled and there was nothing Jasper could say or do to defend himself or build back what Chester had torn down.
‘He runs a gambling hell in a warehouse near the Thames, enriching himself by ruining honest men, teasing and tempting them with the promise of riches while he plucks them dry,’ Chester sneered.
Jasper’s father’s men, led by Jacob, pushed past him and Giles as they hustled into the room. Chester writhed against them as they grabbed him by the arms, his voice growing higher and more frantic when they dragged him toward the door. �
��If you don’t believe me, ask his little wife why her husband isn’t warming her bed at night. She’ll tell you I’m right.’
Jasper turned to discover Jane beside him, her humiliation as palpable as his father’s. She didn’t come close to him as she had in the study or slip her hand in his and offer her silent support. Instead she moved away and he didn’t fault her for it. All she’d ever asked for was his care and friendship, and all he’d done was heap her with scorn and shame and drag her down with him in his family’s eyes.
‘Get him out of here,’ his father commanded his men.
They pulled Chester to the door, bringing him close to Jasper.
‘I told you I’d ruin you,’ Chester spat out while he continued to fight the men, his feet dragging over the wood when they pulled him into the hallway. Chester’s curses faded down the stairs and outside as the men dragged him away. Silence engulfed the room. Not even the coals dared to crackle as Chester’s revelation continued to echo off the walls.
‘Is it true?’ A purple rage tinted his father’s face as he fixed on Jasper.
The time for lies was over. It was time for the truth. Deep down in the places he hid from everyone except himself he was glad. ‘It is.’
His sisters gasped along with their mother. Only Milton seemed to be enjoying the spectacle, grinning like a covetous player watching the Hazard wheel spin. Jasper ignored him and examined the rest of the family, some of whom, like Lily and Giles, avoided his gaze. Whatever esteem they’d held for him and everything they’d thought or imagined about him had been destroyed, just like he’d torn himself down in Jane’s eyes.
‘Did you know about this?’ his father flung at Jane.
‘I did.’
Jasper stepped between his father and Jane, trying to shield her from his mistakes the way he’d failed to do before. ‘I made her promise not to tell you. I’m to blame for everything, not her.’
