“Get out of my hotel now,” Jason said in a low growl.
“You can’t—”
“Michael, Reggie.”
As soon as Jason snapped the two names, the hotel’s two largest porters stepped forward, only too glad to grab Mr. Bligh and Mr. Gould by the scruff of their necks and to march them out of the dining room. The hushed crowd of onlookers began to buzz as Mr. Bligh shouted, “Unhand me! You’ll regret this!” and other epitaphs. A few people applauded.
Jason turned to Flossie, resting his trussed hand, smooth in its leather glove, gently on her stinging cheek. “He’s lucky I didn’t murder him.”
Flossie rested her hand over his, leaning into his touch, regardless of the fact that her cheek was sore. “I’m afraid a great deal more trouble was just created for all of us.”
“Why?” Jason asked, looping his arm around Flossie’s waist and escorting her away from the prying eyes and the mess of Mr. Bligh’s table as the waiters cleaned it up. “That ass was in the wrong. I should have killed him.”
She sent him a sideways look filled with both censure and thanks. “Men of the law are more trouble than they’re worth,” she sighed as they crossed into the hall leading to the kitchen. The staff dining room was mostly empty, so Jason whisked her into the room and turned her so he could study her face closer.
“I meant it,” he said, touching her face lightly. “I should have killed him. I’ll murder anyone who raises a hand to you in cold blood.”
“Wouldn’t you be murdering them in hot blood if you were doing it as vengeance?” she asked, trying to make light of the situation. Now that the danger had passed, she just wanted to move on.
Jason cupped her face with both hands and leaned in to kiss her. “If he thinks this will dampen my efforts on Marshall’s behalf, he’s sorely mistaken. Now my stake in winning this fight just became personal.”
“Don’t do anything foolish,” Flossie said. “I can’t have you ending up in prison or worse, not now.”
“If I end up in prison for murdering someone who hurt you, it would be well worth the punishment,” Jason replied.
“Is that what you’re going to tell your son, or daughter, when he or she joins us in the spring?” Flossie asked, the joy she’d felt earlier rushing back.
Jason stared at her, realization dawning in his eyes. His face transformed from furious to delighted. “Are you certain?” he asked, his voice a thousand times lighter.
Flossie nodded. “Alexandra confirmed it this morning.” She couldn’t contain her smile.
“Oh, Flossie, this is wonderful,” he said, then swept her into his arms. He lifted her off her feet and swung her in a circle. “This is the most wonderful thing I’ve heard in weeks.” He put her down then kissed her.
She would have indulged in the kiss, if her face hadn’t stung so much. “Ow.”
Jason pulled back, his anger returning for a moment. It didn’t last long, though. He broke into a smile once more. “I’m so happy,” he sighed. “We’re going to have a family of our own.”
“We are,” Flossie giggled.
“Lady E can dress me up and drag me off to parties and events, but she can’t ever take this away from me,” Jason went on, placing his hand on Flossie’s stomach.
Flossie arched a brow, attempting to look fierce and scolding through her giddy smiles. “What does she want now?”
“Oh, nothing.” Jason gestured to wave whatever demand Lady E had made away. “She seems to think I’m made of time and that it’s her right to have me by her side at all hours. She wants to go to London for Christmas and for the opening of Parliament, and she wants me to go with her.”
“You won’t go, though, will you?” Flossie asked, suddenly anxious.
“Of course not.” He slid closer to her, wrapping one arm around her waist and laying his other hand on her belly. “I don’t want to be anywhere in the world but by your side.” He leaned in to kiss her as softly as he could, but she could feel the urgency of his desire beneath his restraint. “But I’ll have to go after Christmas,” he went on as if the thought had suddenly hit him. “I have to be there for Marshall and the hearing. Now more than ever.” He narrowed his eyes.
“Just don’t commit murder in front of the Pycroft girls,” Flossie teased him. Her mood was simply too happy to dwell on the horrible offense of Mr. Bligh, even though her face was throbbing.
“I’ll wait until they’ve left the room,” Jason said, stealing one last kiss before stepping back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go stand threateningly in the lobby, making sure that nasty, arrogant shit meets Constable Burnell on his way out of our hotel.”
“And I should put some ice on my cheek,” Flossie sighed. “But afterwards, could we have a quiet supper together?”
“My darling,” he said, pulling her into his arms again. “I’ll move heaven and earth to make it happen.”
Episode Four - A Parting of Ways
Untitled
Matty
December was supposed to be a time of joy and celebration. And if she were honest, Matty did feel a certain amount of joy. Her belly was enormous, even though they still had two months until the baby would arrive. She loved the feeling of life growing inside her. Whenever the baby kicked or moved, she paused what she was doing to rub her stomach, whispering words of encouragement the way Mother Grace had taught her.
And the house Lawrence was building her was truly beginning to take shape. At least, the kitchen was taking shape. In the past few weeks, he’d finished erecting all four walls, laid down a temporary floor, put up a makeshift roof to see it through the winter, and moved a table and chairs into the raw space. It wasn’t enough to live in, but it was more than Matty had had before.
But those were the bright spots in a world that was becoming increasingly difficult.
“I don’t see why I should have to keep going to school when the whole thing is about to stop for Christmas holidays anyhow,” Connie said with a huff as she plopped into a chair at the kitchen table. She’d sworn that school let out at lunchtime that day and that was the reason she was home so early, but Matty had her doubts.
“Every woman needs an education,” Mother Grace told her from the stove, where she was brewing a potion of elderberries and purple coneflowers that she claimed would keep sickness away during the winter. “Without it, you’re nothing but a slave to men.”
“I don’t want to be a slave to anybody,” Connie pouted, sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m a slave to Mr. Palmer now.”
An electric jolt shot down Matty’s spine. “Connie,” she said as casually as she could, continuing to knead the bread she was working on. “Mr. Palmer hasn’t done anything inappropriate, has he?”
Connie glared at her. “No. That’s disgusting. He’s a pompous ass, and besides, Henny Nyman says he’s sweet on her older sister, who works at the hospital.”
Matty let out a breath of relief. “You’d tell me if any man did or said anything that made you uncomfortable, wouldn’t you?”
Connie hugged herself tighter and tucked her chin against her chest. She may have been adjusting to school at last, making friends even, but there was no escaping the things that Hoag had forced her to do in the past. It felt like a lifetime since her siblings had been under his sway. But in fact, it was only four months.
“Come help me with this decoction, girl,” Mother Grace said, beckoning Connie toward the stove. “There is more than one form of education in this world.”
A hint of curiosity brightened Connie’s expression, and she got up to join Mother Grace at the stove. For a few minutes, everything felt peaceful and productive.
“I found this one loitering too near to the forge,” Lawrence said, breaking the peace, as he stepped into the kitchen with Elsie in his arms and a small parcel tied with brown paper and string in his hand. A burst of cold air followed him in from the outside before he shut the door behind him and put Elsie down.
Elsie
instantly latched onto his leg as soon as her feet hit the floor. Lawrence sighed.
“She’s grown more anxious instead of less,” Mother Grace said, studying Elsie with narrowed eyes.
“I don’t know what to do about her,” Matty said with a sigh. It was true. While Connie was adapting slowly to her new life and Willy was in heaven working at the hotel, Elsie seemed to shrink in on herself more and more. She still hadn’t uttered a word since Matty and Lawrence had brought her home. Longer than that, for all Matty knew.
“It’s dangerous for her to linger around the forge,” Lawrence said, shifting his leg and running his free hand through his hair as he stared down at Elsie. He moved as if he would push her away, but thought twice and dropped his shoulders instead. “Aside from the fact that Oliver or I might accidentally step on her while we work, she could be burned, cut herself on scraps of metal, breathe in smoke, all sorts of things.”
“Keep stirring this with even strokes,” Mother Grace told Connie before stepping away from the stove. She took a few steps closer to Lawrence, then crouched to look Elsie in the eye. “We must get to the bottom of this, little miss.”
“Go to Mother Grace,” Lawrence told Elsie.
Matty could hear the strain in his voice. She sent him a sympathetic smile. As painful as it was to see her siblings struggling, it was even worse to see the strain in Lawrence’s face. The carefree, bohemian man she’d fallen in love with seemed trapped in a cage of responsibility that he’d never asked for. Worse still, she saw a longing in his eyes when she looked at him, a longing which loomed larger whenever he glanced out over the horizon or heard a wagon approaching on the road. She knew what a man who wanted to run looked like.
“This came for you,” he said, holding the parcel out to her.
Elsie still hadn’t let go of his leg, so he was forced to drag her with him as he shuffled a few steps closer. Matty met him halfway and took the parcel. She turned it over with a puzzled frown.
“It doesn’t have a return address,” she said.
“No, but apparently it came in with the London post,” Lawrence said. “My guess is that the Pycroft girls found a way to send you a Christmas present.”
A fond smile settled on Matty’s face in spite of herself. “It’s a little early for Christmas.”
“Three weeks,” Connie said. “Christmas is in three weeks. I can’t wait to see what Father Christmas brings me this year.” She paused, then went on with, “I hope he comes this year. Father said we were all far too rotten last year, and that all he left us were some shits on the roof.”
A sick feeling gored at Matty’s stomach. She remembered. She’d still been with Hoag and her mother and siblings just a year ago, but she’d long outgrown any belief in Father Christmas.
“I’m sure he’ll come this year,” she said, setting the parcel on the edge of the table and returning to her kneading.
“Would you like to play a game?” Mother Grace asked, still crouching and attempting to distract Elsie. She reached for one of the pouches tied to her belt and shook it.
Elsie pried her face away from Lawrence’s leg and peeked at her. Matty exchanged a hopeful smile with Lawrence.
“It’s an easy game,” Mother Grace went on. “It’s played with the pretty rocks I have in here.” She stood, stepping to the table and untying the pouch. A sweet, herby smell filled the air as she opened it and turned it over. At least two dozen stones of various colors and sizes spilled across the table. “Won’t you come help me pick out the right stones?” she asked Elsie.
To Matty’s surprise, Elsie nodded and let go of Lawrence’s leg. Mother Grace motioned for her to come sit on her lap.
“Now then, sweetling,” Mother Grace said. “All you have to do is pick out the right stones for me. Do you understand?”
Elsie nodded and turned her attention to the array of stones on the table.
Lawrence let out a breath of relief and moved to hug Matty from behind. His powerful arms circled around her, and his hands spread across her belly. “I suppose I don’t mind the distraction if it gives me a moment like this,” he murmured in Matty’s ear, then nibbled on her neck.
A burst of happiness filled Matty, but it was tempered by the fact that Connie was staring at them from the stove, the look on her face unreadable.
“We could slip back over to the forge,” Lawrence continued to whisper. “Mother Grace can keep the girls occupied here. Oliver has things well in hand for the moment. And Willy is still at the hotel.”
Matty sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, reveling in the thought of a moment’s peace and passion with Lawrence. It had been so long since they were able to steal even a few moments together that she’d risk any sort of embarrassment to feel his body around her.
“I can’t,” she admitted at last. “There’s so much work to be done. If I don’t bake this bread today, we won’t have anything for the week. And I have to figure out how to do laundry with this increasingly giant belly of mine.”
“I adore that increasingly giant belly of yours,” Lawrence said, rubbing it for a moment before stepping back. As sweet as his words had been in Matty’s ear, the reality of the strain in his expression was obvious. He wasn’t happy, and now it was likely he felt rejected.
“That one?” Mother Grace asked Elsie as they sat at the table. Elsie had three stones lined up to one side of the pile and was just adding another. “Hmm….”
Matty glanced from Elsie to Lawrence with an apologetic smile. “We’ll find time,” she whispered to him. “The work will all get done and we’ll find time.”
“We won’t find time unless we go looking for it,” he answered.
A strange chill settled in her gut. That look was back in his eyes, the look of longing. Tension corded the muscles of his back, and he sent a quick glance around at the walls he’d built to enclose the kitchen. He didn’t look right, standing there in his blacksmith’s robe, flushed from the heat of the forge. He didn’t look right in the domestic scene his hands had created.
“Are you sure you want to place that one that way, sweetling?” Mother Grace asked Elsie. When Elsie nodded, she clucked her tongue.
“What?” Matty asked, eager to step away from the guilt she felt for her part in Lawrence’s sorrow. She glanced at the stones Elsie had lined up on the table. Three were runes and one was a shiny, black onyx stone.
“Perthro,” Mother Grace said, pointing to the first stone. “It represents the ability to see beyond, the ability to foretell. Elsie has the gift all right.”
A shiver passed down Matty’s back. She glanced anxiously to Lawrence, who took a protective step toward her. He scanned Elsie’s stones with a frown.
“Uruz reversed,” Mother Grace went on in a more ominous voice. “Obsession, domination, brutality, and violence.”
Matty reached for Lawrence’s hand. Hoag. No wonder Elsie was so afraid all the time. But he was miles away and in prison. He couldn’t hurt them now.
“Raidho,” Mother Grace went on, pointing to the third rune. “Travel. Relocation, but also dislocation. Moving on, possibly into death. And onyx.” She picked up the last stone. “Dark indeed.”
“What does it all mean together?” Lawrence asked, frowning at the stones.
“This is what Elsie fears,” Mother Grace said.
“But her fears are unfounded,” Lawrence said. “She’s safe here.”
“I think not,” Mother Grace said, her brow knitting into a frown.
Matty’s baby started to kick, as though pushing her to get away from the darkness and focus on the light. “Let’s think of happier things for a moment,” she said, reaching for her parcel. “Let’s open this present from Mary, Martha, and Molly. I’ve been longing to hear from them for months.”
“Yes,” Lawrence said, resting a steady hand on her shoulder as she tore into the package. “Let’s think of Christmas and happier times.”
Matty’s hands were shaking as she tore through the plain brown paper
and string. The parcel contained a small box about the size of her fist. She glanced to Lawrence, looking for encouragement, and he smiled back at her. Then she opened the box. Nestled in a bed of newspaper was a dirty, cloth ball caked in mud or some other dark, crusted muck. With a frown, Matty took the ball out of the newspaper and turned it over.
Two, button eyes stared back at her. She screamed and threw the ball and the box away, reeling backward.
“What is it?” Connie asked, leaping away from the stove and scrambling after the box and ball.
“What’s wrong?” Lawrence echoed, closing his arms around her. But his embrace felt like a vise holding her to the spot and the horror she’d just uncovered. To make matters worse, Elsie jumped out of Mother Grace’s lap and shot across the room, latching onto Lawrence’s leg again with a force that had him grunting.
“It’s Holly,” Connie screeched as she picked up the ball. “Holly. What’s happened to Holly?” She was growing hysterical as well.
“Who is Holly?” Mother Grace asked. She leapt up and crossed the room, retrieving the box and taking the ball from Connie.
“My doll,” Matty answered breathlessly.
“She’s Matty’s favorite doll,” Connie said, panting, her eyes wide. “Even when she was too old to play with her, Holly sat on Matty’s bed all the time. What’s happened to her?”
Matty wanted to hide her face against Lawrence’s chest, but she felt compelled to watch as Mother Grace turned the ball over, eyes narrowed. “The head’s been torn off,” she said, then sniffed the ball. “And soaked in blood.”
Matty moaned and buried her face against Lawrence’s shoulder.
“Why would your friends send something so horrible,” Connie sobbed, hugging herself and backing away from Mother Grace.
“They didn’t,” Lawrence said. “They wouldn’t have been able to get their hands on the doll in the first place. They wouldn’t have had access to Hoag’s home.”
“Who would have?” Mother Grace asked.
The Brynthwaite Boys: Season Two - Part One Page 17
