Bound by Love

by Edith Layton

  Jared and Justin dared not look at each other because they both remembered Jared’s reaction to the shiny penny piece his uncle had given him when he’d wanted toy soldiers.

  “Manners don’t make the man,” Uncle Martin said.

  “Neither do brothers who are looking for long-lost brothers,” Uncle John said worriedly. “We must go on what is before our eyes. But wait—what of birthmarks? What of scars, Justin? Can you remember any that your brother had that we might be interested in and can look for now?”

  Jared seemed to startle, or at least it looked like his wide shoulders leaped and he flinched. But the firelight played such large and disturbing shadows over them all that before anyone could be sure, he was quiet again, standing so still by the mantel that it seemed impossible he’d moved at all since they’d started discussing his fate.

  “He was seven, Uncle. I was six,” Justin said with a small smile. “I remember he fell and scraped his knees. I remember he cut his thumb once. Will that do?”

  “No sense looking for scars,” Uncle Lawrence scoffed. “Any man may scar himself. Ha! For an earldom, there’s some who’ll take off an ear.”

  “True, true,” Uncle John said and sighed. “So there’s no more we can learn here. But my man’s making inquiries in London.”

  Jared stood by the fireside, the light playing such shadows on his lean face none of the uncles could know what he was thinking, even if they cared any more than they had when he’d been a boy. Jared understood that. Because whether he turned out to be an earl or not, he was still a boy to them, and they were his elders. In fact, it spoke volumes for how much they had already accepted him that they took no extra care to be polite to him. But they had come to see him as soon as they’d gotten word of him, and the sight of them moved him almost as much as the sight of his house did. The sound of their voices brought back his childhood as vividly as anything in this house did. He could give them no less than the absolute truth.

  “I’m afraid your man won’t find out much,” Jared said simply. “I remember the name of the ship that I was taken away on—I’d like to forget it, but the good ship Fair Fortune will never leave my mind. But I doubt they put bond-boys on ship manifests. Even if they did, I don’t think they put down the name I insisted on: the earl of Alveston. They cuffed me for saying it and then starved me until I stopped. But it worked against them”—he grinned wryly—”because they didn’t make much money on me when we reached the Colonies. I was too scrawny by then.

  “Everyone wants boys who look like they can do a good day’s work. That’s why I was bought by a city trader,” he told Justin. “Farmers want sturdier lads. But in the long run, it worked against me, too, because I found out it was easier to escape from the plantations. They’re in the middle of nowhere, and if you run far enough, you can start again as a free man. Many did. It’s harder in the cities. It’s not easy to get far when everyone on the street knows just whose bond-boy you are and how much they’ll get for bringing you back. There’s always a reward for escaped bond-servants. No, I should have eaten more on the journey and revenged myself later. All I ever got from my attempts at escape were beatings.”

  Justin didn’t know what to answer. Even the uncles sat still. Jared winced when he realized what silenced them. He hated pity. It reminded him how pitiable he had been.

  “Still,” he added lightly, “I suppose I was lucky, after all. Because Alfred bought my papers and freed me—if I hadn’t been in the city and on the docks that day, it never would have happened. The way things were going, believe me, if it hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here today to trouble you.”

  “But you are, and we’ll deal with it—justly, never fear,” Uncle John said quickly. “Because before I even left my house—in fact, as soon as I got the message from Alveston—ah—Justin here—I set inquiries in motion. If Justin here acknowledges you—yes, yes, Justin, I know you’ve said it often enough, but please let me go on—and if we can find out more to prove it to our satisfaction, or more to the point, if nothing is found to disclaim it, we will support you. We’ll see your claim’s made valid as smoothly as possible.”

  “Won’t be that smooth outside the courts,” Uncle Lawrence commented.

  “Aye,” Uncle Martin said gruffly. “Be a scandal any which way. John will take care of the legal etcetera, all right. We’ll see to the rest. But if it comes to pass, the gossips will have a party, lad, and there’s naught we can do about it. Still, if it does happen that you are Alveston returned to us, we stand ready to take you to London to let the world know we acknowledge you. That’s what counts.”

  “I didn’t come here to go to London,” Jared said quickly. “I wanted only to come see the hall.”

  “Nonsense,” Justin said. “I myself will take you ’round, introduce you.…”

  “We’re being a bit anticipatory,” Uncle John said quickly. “Nothing has happened yet. As I said, I expect to hear from my man any day.”

  “I don’t think he’ll find much,” Jared said, “but thank you for trying. Thank you all,” he said carefully, “for listening.”

  They shifted in their chairs. They were old men and rich ones, from a family old as the kingdom, and in their time they had heard everything. But this—the story of a boy sold into slavery, whether he was one of theirs or not—bothered them.

  “Never fear,” Uncle John said staunchly. “We’ll soon know.”

  Jared nodded, though he didn’t think they’d ever know much more. He was wrong.

  Chapter 6

  It took another week, a week in which Jared and Justin rode out every day, exploring the neighborhood together the way they had when they were boys. They visited all the old places, recalling all the mischief they’d done. In those hours, the last of Justin’s doubts faded away. And if Jared had harbored any about this man who claimed to be his brother, he had no more, either. Whatever the world decided, they knew who they were. Each felt more complete than he had in years, even though they both soon realized they had led such different lives that they had grown into different men than they might have been if their greedy uncle hadn’t interfered.

  But now they were as close as though they’d never been apart. It amazed them both how quickly that happened.

  “Where to today?” Justin asked idly as they finished breakfast a week after Jared had come home.

  “The village, I think,” Jared said. “Last time, I was too amazed at how it had grown to notice much more about it.

  Justin grinned. Only one new shop had opened there since he’d been a boy. “The tavern does have good cider,” he agreed, “and Sally is the prettiest barmaid in the district.”

  “Oh?” Jared asked, one golden eyebrow arcing in surprise. “You have designs there?”

  “Lord, no!” Justin said. “The worst thing a man can do is to dally with a local lass, especially if her father is as big as James Rutledge is. Don’t tell me you’re interested?”

  “No, but I’d like to see what’s offered in the shops. I need some new clothes. No, save your breath, I meant it: I won’t wear yours. I was a beggar long enough,” he said, and that silenced his brother’s protests. “Anyway, more than what they have, I’d like to see what they might need in the stores. I’m a merchant, you know. So, shall we?”

  “I am at your disposal,” Justin said, rising from the table.

  “Well,” Jared said, hesitating, “I’m not taking you away from your usual duties, am I? Because, if I am, I can go by myself.”

  “There’s nothing I have to do—there’s nothing I’d rather do,” Justin said.

  They left the house and headed for the stables. The stable men rushed to do their bidding, smiling and bowing. There was a rumor that the young colonial was the rightful earl returned—gossip was faster than summer lightning in the countryside and just as truly aimed. If it was so, then they were content. Young Alveston was a good master; this new man looked like he would be just as good. They stood and smiled at the two handsome young men as they
rode off together. Either or both would do them proud.

  But as they rode away, Jared marveled at what had happened in just one week’s time. Whether he knew it or not, Justin had already slipped back into being the younger brother, ready to follow Jared anywhere, the way he’d always done. Jared had always wondered what would have happened, what sort of man he would have been, if he hadn’t been stolen away all those years ago. But now he wondered what would have happened to Justin. Would he ever have escaped from his older brother’s shadow?

  Today, from all Jared could see, his brother was an estimable man. He’d been to university, which Jared deeply envied, but Justin wore his education lightly. He was a sportsman and a scholar and, though gentle and soft-spoken, he had an unconscious air of command. Would it have been so if he’d had an older brother to dominate him? Jared didn’t know, any more than he knew whether he’d been right to come back and make his claim, if it meant his brother might be displaced. But since there was little chance that he himself would become earl, he relaxed and vowed to enjoy visiting his past again for these few days.

  “Alfred and I grow and sell tobacco,” Jared said. “We work hard at it—not all by ourselves, of course. But neither do we have slaves or bond-boys, unless we’ve bought their freedom and given it back to them, since Alfred is sensitive to such things.” He added with a proud grin, “We trade, too. There are things I can broker for our neighbors: sugar, cotton, beets, other produce, things a village like yours can use. The New World’s blessed with rich soil and good climate, though as in everything else, it’s wilder. That’s good, too; I can get my hands on furs, everything from beaver to fox—and fine, thick pelts at that. So if I can make a few contacts here and there, build up a market for Alfred, then I’ll feel I’ve done something more than bother you on my visit here.”

  He grinned, but didn’t laugh. Justin had noticed that Jared didn’t laugh aloud very much—not the way he’d used to. That was the greatest difference from the boy Justin remembered. He stole a glance at his brother, sitting tall and straight in his saddle. Strong and strong-minded, then as now, Justin thought with the envy and wonder he always felt when he considered his brother. He’d mourned him most of his life, for Jared had been his ideal. When he’d understood the evil that had been done, he wished Uncle Roland were alive so he could kill him again. And yet, even so, lately there were times when he wondered if Jared’s sad adventures hadn’t given him even another advantage. It was almost as though the suffering Uncle Roland had visited on him had also been a gift. Jared had always been clever and strong, even as a boy. Now, he seemed invincible.

  “I’ll tell them what I have to offer, and buy a few shirts while I’m at it. Buying always sweetens selling,” Jared added.

  “You won’t find decent clothes in town. You need London for that. Or my wardrobe. All right, I don’t understand, but I will obey,” Justin said with a laugh as Jared began to protest again. “So be it. I won’t lend you any clothing. But I’ll give you the name of my tailor, and he can visit, measure you, and make up some clothing for you. Bespoke linen is better than ready-made. You’re an English gentleman now, brother.”

  “I don’t like being fitted and fussed over,” Jared said abruptly. “If they don’t have what I want, I can wait until my reinforcements come. I know Della will pack everything I need, and she’s due here in a month, if she doesn’t decide to swim here herself—she’ll be that eager to get here,” he said, chuckling.

  “A child packing? They do things very differently in the New World.”

  “No, no, did I give that impression? No, she’s all of twenty now, as I was reminded recently. She’s all grown up, but I swear I still see little Della whenever I look at her. It’s always that way when you’ve known someone since they were little—why, I still half expect to have to help you hold your glass so you don’t spill your drink down your chin when we get to the inn, little brother.”

  “If you have enough of that cider, I’ll have to help you with yours, brother,” Justin said, laughing.

  “I doubt it. I’m weaned on home brew, and they use New World liquor to stop pain, revive dead mules, and start fires.”

  “Shall I like your Della?”

  “I don’t see how you can’t,” Jared answered. “Be careful of your heart.”

  “Oh, but I don’t have to be,” Justin said, “because it’s not mine anymore.”

  “Really?” Jared asked. “Do you know, with everything that’s happened, I hadn’t thought to ask. But you are six and twenty, aren’t you? Have you got a woman, lad?”

  “Better, I’ve a fiancée.”

  “No!” Jared whispered, reining in sharply and turning in his saddle to stare at his brother. “I never thought—I never asked.…”

  “You don’t have to; you’ll soon see.” Justin laughed at his brother’s shocked expression. “She’s visiting in London, but I wrote to her about you, so be sure she’ll be here any day now. But wait! I never asked you, either. Is there someone in Virginia waiting for you?”

  “Only my little Della,” Jared said lightly, “and she doesn’t count. No, I’ve been too busy—plotting and planning to come here, I suppose—to think about a life’s mate. But you…I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am, although of course you’re old enough. Still, I never thought…tell me more about your lady.”

  “No, I’ll say no more,” Justin said, grinning like a boy. “But trust me. You’re in for a great surprise—in several ways.”

  But the greatest surprise came when they returned to the hall at the end of the day. The uncles were waiting for them. They were smiling.

  “Here you are!” Uncle John said triumphantly, waving the papers he’d just received. “The Fair Fortune’s captain was a good seaman and a scrupulous officer—navy-trained, don’t you know. He wrote down everything, even that he’d taken on a difficult passenger on fourth August, 1740, before he set sail from London for the Virginia colony. What does he say? Ah, yes, here.” He scanned the paper, and then read out, with pride:

  Also taken aboard this night, a poor, daft bonded servant, a lad, aged seven, fair and well developed, who nonetheless claims to be his lordship, the rightful earl of Alveston. Confined to quarters for the length of the voyage, because he is quite mad.

  *

  “Ah. There you are. Well, then, greetings, my lord Alveston,” Justin said with a twisted smile as he bowed low to his dazed brother. “Or shall I say, greetings, my poor, daft lord?”

  “I can’t do it,” Jared said as he paced the room, head down, hands behind his back. “No,” he said again, shaking his head, “I can’t take your life away from you. It’s not right.”

  Justin sat, head back, watching the morning sunlight that filtered through the window. “It’s right,” he said calmly, “and it is just.”

  “Life’s not that simple,” Jared snarled. “Besides, I wouldn’t do it right. You’ve been trained for it. Being earl of Alveston, managing these estates, being responsible for all your tenants is a job. And you’ve done it well.”

  “Managing an estate should be child’s play for a merchant,” Justin said easily.

  “It’s more than being in trade. It’s the people, dealing with them, high and low. There’s our name to be considered. Let’s face it, brother, I can’t do it justice. Do you think I don’t remember Father? He was a gentleman as well as a country squire. He knew the ways of the gentry in London, too. I don’t even know this country! Do you think I didn’t notice the way fashionable people looked at me in London? My coat is of a good cut, but not Continental enough. My face is too tanned. Men don’t wear their swords in the street here anymore, it seems. Even my pistol is made by the wrong man. Everything I do marks me as a colonial—quaint and amusing.

  “The truth is, I don’t know your ways. I didn’t even know how to amuse myself in London. I don’t know opera or theater, and I’ve never taken the grand tour. Do you think that would go unnoticed in your circles? Worst of all, I haven’t the education y
ou have,” Jared added bitterly. “I had some before I left here. The rest, I snatched and stole from books I found when I could find them—and the time to read. Then Alfred hired tutors for me. But I’m a wilderness savage compared to you.”

  “Not quite,” Justin said with a little smile. “You do read; most of my schoolmates went near books only when threatened with expulsion. As for being taken for a wilderness savage, whatever you wear, you look every inch the earl, you know.”

  Jared threw him a bright look. “Flatterer—it’s only because I look so much like you.”

  They laughed. But Justin meant what he said. It was true his brother was taller and tougher-looking than he was, more a warrior than a courtier. It was also true he didn’t sound like an Englishman; his words were slightly drawled, he used different slang, and had a colonial accent now. But his grace and dignity were unmistakable, as was his air of decisiveness. The only thing Justin didn’t understand was why no one had believed him all those years ago. Man or boy, Colonial or Englishman, his brother looked every inch a nobleman.

  “Have done, brother,” Justin said suddenly. “You would have taken the title like a shot if I weren’t here.”

  Sunlight glinted off Jared’s gray eyes, making them cold and clear as ice as he looked at his brother. “Aye,” he said bluntly, “I would have. But you are here. I won’t supplant you.”

  “But I supplanted you,” Justin said calmly, “and do you know,” he said with deceptive mildness, because this was a thing that his brother had to believe, “it’s always made me uneasy because I knew I didn’t deserve the title and that you’d have been a better earl than I was. You saved my life that night, and I thought you’d died doing it. Then I was rewarded by taking over your place. It stuck in my throat.

  “Why do you think I go to London so seldom? They say I’m reclusive, and it was true that for those first years, I was made to stay close to home. The uncles insisted. They were afraid for my safety and for the family reputation. They wanted everything kept hushed until they discovered the culprit, and after they did, they had to be sure there were no more plots or danger to my life. That’s likely why your Alfred could never find out about me; we discouraged inquiries. But afterward, when I was a grown man and it was clear there’d be no more attempts? Then it was my choice. I hesitated to prance about London as the earl of Alveston. Because I always felt like I was an imposter.”