The Ghost and Jacob Moorhead

by Jeanne Savery

  “He didn’t tell us that was what he meant to do, but when he said he was going into York and he looked very nearly as happy as you do, I guessed.”

  “You…don’t look very happy for me.”

  Verity, still obsessed with Jacob’s odd proposal, looked Melissa in the eye for the first time. “Oh. Oh dear, I’ve been very rude, have I not? I do wish you happy. I believe him to be a good man.”

  “My first love…and now my last,” said Melissa with a certain hard edge to the assertion.

  “You…you love him?” asked Verity, curious.

  “I loved him. Long ago. But he has changed and so have I. I think I will love the man he is now, but,” she turned slightly as she spoke, “who can know what the future holds?” She swung back. “I can tell you this. I will be faithful to him as I was not to my first husband who was a beast. An old beast.” Her chin rose a notch as if she expected Verity would not believe her.

  “I think you would be wise,” said Verity softly. “He is not a man who would allow his wife to stray, I think.”

  Melissa laughed. “You would be right to do so. But I am quite certain,” she added a trifle smugly, “that I won’t want to stray.”

  Verity wondered how she could be so certain, wondered if the pair had already become lovers, but she hadn’t enough interest to ask. She nodded. “He’s buying a license,” she said slowly. “And that means a wedding.” She brightened as it occurred to her that planning the wedding was something she could do, something to occupy her mind so that it didn’t go ‘round and ‘round in circles. “Have you thought about it at all?”

  Melissa looked blank for a moment. “A…real wedding? Lester thought perhaps we could merely go see the vicar and…” She frowned slightly. “You shake your head?”

  “We can do ever-so much better than that. Let us go find my aunt. She’ll know what the local customs are so that we don’t plan something that upsets someone. She will also know those we should send the grooms to with invitations, she and Aunt Mary. What else? Do you know the custom of decorating the church with flowers? It isn’t the best time of the year for that but I’m sure we could come up with at least two very nice bouquets of roses and we must think about a dress, must we not? What else? Ah. A wedding breakfast for when we return from the church and…hm… Well, at the moment, I can’t think of anything else.”

  “I’ve a gown I’ve not yet worn,” said Melissa a trifle shyly. “I think Lester would like it.”

  “We’ll take a look. In my opinion, a bridegroom pays little attention to what his bride is wearing, but everyone else will. And you. You will be most comfortable if you know you look your best. Marriage,” finished Verity, thinking once again of Jacob’s proposal—if it could be called that, “is more than a trifle scary. It is the rest of one’s life. And not just one’s own life. The life of one’s mate as well… One has to wonder…”

  Verity, unused to confiding in anyone, let alone a woman she neither admired nor liked, shut her mouth with a snap. It occurred to her as they walked down the hall and she listened to Melissa talk of the Lester she’d known when growing up that perhaps this new Melissa was one she would not dislike… But never admire, she thought. She is too shallow, too selfish, too… Oh, I don’t know.

  But she did know. Melissa had shared Jacob’s bed at one time and she’d never forget that…or be completely comfortable about it. Which was another reason she should not wed him.

  * * * * *

  Although arranged so quickly, Melissa’s wedding to Lester McAllen went off without a hitch. Jenna, when Jacob came to her, asking for advice concerning Verity’s reluctance to wed him, had suggested it would be best to wait until Melissa and Mr. McAllen were married and gone off—although Jacob silently wondered if Lester would leave. He’d been too adamant about the threats against Lady Mary, too concerned for her. Perhaps he’d marry his Melissa—which was a very good thing—and still not leave.

  The wedding breakfast, with all the toasts and good cheer, was also finished and the dozen or so guests, neighbors, had adjourned to the drawing room where servants circulated among them with trays carrying wine. Whenever anyone indicated a need, they’d pour the guest’s choice into their glass and wander on, keeping an eye out for others who wished a refill.

  Lester touched Jacob on the shoulder and nodded toward the hall door. Jacob, understanding he wished to be private, followed him into the hall. The two men continued on and into an empty room where Lester closed the door.

  Lady Mary stood by a table near the window awaiting them. She smiled. “I am honored to be asked,” she said.

  Jacob, curious, approached the table.

  “I have read it as you asked me to do and I see nothing you’ve forgotten. You’ve been generous,” said Lady Mary, the fingers of her left hand just touching a handwritten document lying there. “Jacob?”

  “I don’t know what this is all about,” he said, looking from one to the other.

  “Since we didn’t take time for lawyers, settlements and wills, I have written up something which will do until we do find the time to visit my solicitor. If you would witness my signature, I’d be pleased,” finished Lester a trifle formally.

  Jacob tipped his head then grinned. “I’d be happy to do so. I too am honored.” He was not asked to read the document but, once Lester had signed it, leaned over the table and added his signature on the line Lester had provided. Lady Mary signed just below Jacob’s name and it was done. Lester folded the document, glanced out the window and stiffened. “Blast!”

  Two men were approaching the front door. Even as the three watched, the strangers were admitted.

  * * * * *

  Melissa turned a trifle to see who’d come into the drawing room. Her eyes widened and her hand shook, a drop or two of wine falling onto her gown. “Oh no,” she murmured. “It cannot be…”

  But it was. A falsely jovial smile on her father’s face, he stalked across the room to stand before her. Beaming widely, a fat gentleman of uncertain years waddled along behind. “My dear daughter. How difficult it has been to track you down. Tut tut, my dear, barely a widow and you stand there before me in a violet gown, in jewels…”

  Lester had clasped the necklace around her throat after they left the church but before they arrived back at High Moor.

  “And paint.” He frowned to see the color in her cheeks but didn’t know it was no more than fear and anger painting her cheeks so rosily. “But never mind that. Say hello to your fiancé,” he finished and drew the second man around from behind himself.

  “Fiancé?” Melissa, horrified, backed away from them. Her hands fell to her side and wine streamed down the skirts of her gown. “No. You cannot…”

  “Ah, but I have. Now be a good girl and give the gentleman your best curtsey, my dear. We’ll not have any of that nonsense that we did the last time, will we?” There was a threat to his tone and, reaching out, he grasped her arm, pulling her forward.

  “Unhand my wife,” said Lester who had stalked into the room and stopped right behind Melissa’s father.

  The hand clutching Melissa’s arm tightened. Lester saw her wince and put a hand to the older man’s shoulder. Silently, her father mouthed the word, “Wife?”

  “Despite your age, I will land you a facer if you do not unhand my wife.” Lester’s hand tightened and it was her father’s turn to wince.

  The guests had gone quiet at the stranger’s first words. Now there were murmurs around the room here and there. A lady tittered. A man stepped forward, ready and willing to offer himself as second if the argument escalated into a duel…as he rather hoped it would. There had been no excitement in the region for far too long!

  Melissa was released. She backed away from her father and, when Lester beckoned, scurried around to his side.

  Slowly her father turned, his face mottled with anger and frustration. “It is usual,” he said, his voice cold, “to ask a woman’s father…”

  “Melissa is of age, a widow
and her own woman. There was no need to ask you anything. Especially after your treatment of her when you married her off against her will on that first occasion.”

  The fat gentleman sputtered. “Hear now? Against her will?”

  “My wife did not wish to wed the man her father chose, a dirty old roué interested only in her young and nubile body. What are you interested in?” asked Lester, his eyes narrowing.

  The same lady tittered again, obviously in embarrassment.

  “I’m a widower. Her father said she wanted children but couldn’t have them. I’ve half a dozen I was quite willing to share with her,” said the gentleman with far more dignity than exhibited by Melissa’s father. “I admit I was reluctant to agree to the settlements drawn up for her and insisted on a separate settlement on my fiancée—” For half a moment he looked confused then sighed. “Or a lady that I assumed was my fiancée,” he finished. He bowed. “I would not remain here, except that I arrived with Lord Dendrum and must depend on him for transport.”

  Jacob, having pity on the man who was obviously as much Lord Dendrum’s dupe as Melissa would have been, approached and, after a few soft words in the man’s ear, drew him away. He cast Lester a significant look, received a nod in return and he and his unwanted guest left the room.

  Jacob, hearing the man’s stomach rumble and seeing his ears redden, stopped a passing footman. “Send one of the maids to the breakfast room with a tray. I’m certain there is enough remaining from the wedding feast… No?” he added when the footman hesitated.

  The footman gulped. “’Tis the maids. There isn’t one. They’re all ooh-ing and aah-ing at a peddler’s wares. Don’t think I can pull one away. I’ll bring the tray.” He turned on his heel and disappeared through the almost-hidden baize-covered door under the stairs.

  Jacob continued on to the breakfast parlor, the middle-aged and more than portly man at his side. The stranger cleared his throat. “Wedding feast?” he asked.

  “We returned from the church no more than an hour ago. Or perhaps a little more now.”

  “Then if we’d come yesterday…”

  “I suspect there would have been an even worse brouhaha since Lord Dendrum would have insisted he’d the right to sell Melissa as he did before.”

  “Sell her?” The man’s small piggy eyes tried to widen but his chubby cheeks made it next to impossible. “Yes. That is what he did… What he wants to do now…” A frown appeared—or rather, the hint of a frown. “I begin to think his lordship is not a good man.”

  “He hasn’t been a good father. I know nothing of his estates or how he treats his tenants.” Jacob wondered if he must remain with the stranger while he ate. It was certainly true that if it were an invited guest he quite properly would do so, but it was not an invited guest and others were.

  Jacob decided he’d see that an adequate meal arrived, tell the footman to remain in case there were orders for something missing. He would return to the drawing room—or wherever Lester managed to take his father-in-law. If he managed it…

  * * * * *

  In the kitchen, the peddler gleaned almost as much information as he passed on concerning neighbors he’d met along his way. He had been worried when he heard there had been a marriage that very morning—but relaxed when he found it was not Lady Mary who said her vows at the altar. But then he realized there were wedding guests and that a sort of party celebrating the couple’s union was going on…and feared he’d have no opportunity to suggest he show his wares to the ladies of the house and, therefore, no way of approaching Lady Mary. He touched the knife hidden at his side. He had to come close to her. Very close… Hesitantly, he asked the housekeeper, who was as enthralled as the young maids, if he might have a bit of a hayloft in which to sleep that night.

  “Oh, I think we can do better than a loft,” she said, lifting still another roll of ribbon and letting it stream down so she could get a good look at color and quality. “We’ve a couple of empty rooms in the male servants’ area. A bed can be made up for you… How much is this one?” she asked.

  Relieved of his greatest fear, realizing he’d actually be in the house overnight, he gave her a very good price on the thing, losing money, but not caring a jot. I’ll be in the house tonight…in the house!

  While the evil king’s last agent gloated over his good luck, Jacob and Lester convinced Melissa’s father he’d no hope of recovering his losses by settlements from Lester. His mouth tightened and his eyes hardened. “No money means a scandal in the family. You’ll find yourself embarrassed by a father-in-law clapped up in the Fleet for debt.”

  “I haven’t a notion why you think I’d be embarrassed. It isn’t Melissa’s fault you can’t hold household. She hasn’t even seen you since you married her off, innocent of the knowledge she had only to refuse and the vicar would not have pronounced them man and wife.”

  The father jerked back. “Nonsense. A daughter. She must do as her parents tell her to do.”

  “You don’t believe that, I’m sure,” said Jacob, looking at his nails, “since you know it isn’t true. A young woman cannot be forced into a distasteful marriage any more than parents of an underage daughter need give her permission to throw herself into a miserable one because of youthful infatuation.”

  “Bah.” The man turned back to Lester. “You’ll not help me then.”

  It was not a question but Lester, his mouth tightening and his eyes narrowing, said, “Not a cent. I would suggest you are not far from a couple of our northern ports. You might think it prudent to head directly from here to one of them.”

  Melissa’s father hesitated. “My wife…”

  “I will ask Melissa, but one way or another we will see your wife suffers no longer for your miserable inability to manage your life. And speaking of management, I think,” added Lester, “that a document turning management of your estates over to me might make it possible for some of the debt to be retrieved, leaving your heir something to inherit once you’ve stuck your spoon in the wall. I’ll also attempt to see Melissa’s brother is at least aware of how to manage his estates once he has them in his control.”

  For a moment Jacob thought the man would explode, perhaps attempt to do Lester some damage…and then he appeared to collapse. “Pen. Paper. You’ll have your bloody pound of flesh, you bastard. Revenge that I prevented you from wedding Missy all those years ago,” he finished bitterly.

  “Revenge? I’ve got that already. She and I have wed, you see, despite you. What I cannot see is why everyone else should suffer for your imbecility. Jacob? Where can we go to write up the documents?”

  Jacob settled the two in the estate office and returned to the party where he found Melissa chewing her nails, fretting and worrying and very nearly beyond Mary’s control. Mary gave him a look and he grinned, approaching them just as the housekeeper approached from a different direction.

  “You can stop worrying,” said Jacob. “Your father will be leaving shortly.” He turned to the housekeeper, “Yes, Mrs. Brownley?”

  “There is a packman in the kitchen, my lord,” she said, knowing full well Jacob had no right to such a title. “He has asked if it might be possible to show his wares to the lady guests. I will say they are of an unusually good quality.”

  “A peddler?” asked Melissa who had instantly ceased to concern herself about husband and father once she knew she was not to be torn from Lester’s side and thrust into the possession of her father’s choice of husband. She looked around. “Why not? It would be an unusual addition to a wedding feast, would it not? The chance to buy odds and ends of items.”

  “Which, as a wedding gift, I will offer to pay for,” said Jacob smoothly. “Wedding favors of a sort.” Even if the blasted man overcharged him a hundredfold, it might be a way of getting the guests’ minds off the recent contretemps and into a more pleasant channel.

  “I will take him to the sewing room across from the breakfast room,” suggested the housekeeper. “There is a good table there for him to
set out his wares. When he is ready I will come tell you.”

  Jacob nodded and, his eyes meeting Verity’s, he crossed the room. He explained to her what Lester had decided and then about the peddler. “I should announce his arrival and that he’ll be available soon for anyone who wishes to choose something as a memento of this, hm, happy day.”

  Verity quickly repressed a grin. “But it is a happy day. Melissa is safe. She and Lester will contrive to have a good if not outstandingly happy marriage.” She shrugged.

  “Not the sort you wish, however,” said Jacob and surreptitiously touched his coat over the hidden pocket in which lay still another license—this one for Verity and himself, assuming he could ever get up the nerve to propose…which he would do if he could ever believe she’d say yes.

  Love… If only he could teach her to love him as he loved her…

  * * * * *

  The packman readied his remaining merchandise and wished he’d not sold quite so much of his better wares along the way in the process of learning his new trade. What was left was good but there had been better. He stood behind the table and awaited the ladies.

  Awaited one particular lady…

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mary and Rube climbed the stairs. Rube had had quite enough of the celebration. He was always tense, worried and unhappy, when Mary lost herself in a crowd of people he didn’t know, didn’t trust.

  “I could not have avoided the ceremony, Rube,” said Mary. She knew how he felt, felt more than a little the same way.

  “We might have excused ourselves from the meal.”

  “A breakfast after the ceremony is traditional. It would have been awkward.” She shook his arm a trifle. “It is over, Rube. We need not join in on the rest of the celebration.”

  He nodded but still felt as if there were something wrong. Something he’d missed. At the top of the stairs to their floor, they turned down the hall. Halfway along a wall had been removed, opening up the room all the way to the front windows. Mary tugged Rube toward them. “It is such a beautiful day,” she said, coaxing.