by Tess Quinn
Oh, my, she thought to herself. He is young, and not half a looker, is he? Very pretty he is. To Joss, she said, “Sit you down there. You will be comfortable enough to await your master here.” She could feel colour rising in her cheeks as Joss smiled at her, then sat in a wooden chair by the hearth.
“I expect you could use a cuppa tea, being out all this while. I was just about to brew myself a cup. Would you join me in it?” Sara had not, in fact, had any such thing in mind until a moment ago. She had thought to dispatch the young man to the kitchen and then off to bed with herself, it had been a long day. But he was lovely, this man. Large rounded eyes in a youthful face, and the smallest natural pursed look to his lips, as if at any moment they might break into a kiss. He must be about her own age, Sara thought. She felt her fatigue slip away as she beheld the smile that had crossed his face now.
“Yes, thank you kindly. If it is no trouble.”
“No, no trouble at all.” While Sara busied herself making tea, she said, “I am Allen, Sara Allen -- Miss Caroline’s maid.” Joss soon introduced himself officially as Sir John’s man and within minutes, the two were chatting cosily at the work table in the kitchen.
~~~~~~
Caroline returned to the library in her newly-donned attire, and found Sir John still at the window where she had left him half an hour or so prior. Indeed, it looked as if he had not moved in that space of time.
Upon his admission of the circumstances of his birth, he had seemed, for the first time ever in Caroline’s acquaintance of him, to lose his assured composure. A pall had fallen over the room, as both Sir John and Caroline had felt discomfort at the information he had exposed. It had certainly taken Caroline by surprise; she could never have conceived the turn this evening’s revelations would take. Sir John had risen from his seat and walked to the window, his back to Caroline. There was fully a moment of silence before he had said, addressing her hazy reflection in the window, “Would you hear more?” His voice had been thick with emotion he had been struggling to control. Tentatively, he turned to glance at her.
Caroline had taken a moment before replying that she would listen to as much as he would relate. But for the sake of composure for both of them, she then had requested that he excuse her for a short while to change from her evening clothes into less formal attire. The break would be beneficial, as Caroline had felt the need for time to absorb what he had told her.
Sir John had nodded his acquiescence, his eyes tinged with relief. Caroline had rung for Allen to meet her in her chambers; and then as she was leaving the room, she had heard Sir John mention his man Joss, as he asked if they might allow Joss to wait in the house until their conversation was concluded. Assuring him it would be done, Caroline had left him to his memories for a short while.
While he had waited for Caroline’s return, Sir John reflected that she had been uncommonly patient while he made his slow entry into his history. He was grateful for this; it seemed to validate that he had not erred in trusting her interest in him. He had trusted so few people in his life, it was a luxury not often afforded him; and though Miss Caroline’s general lifestyle and demeanour on perusal did not seem a good match for such trust, his instincts had told him differently from their first meeting. He hoped his instincts were serving him well. It was too late to turn back now.
When Caroline returned, she roused Sir John from his reverie, and assured him that Joss was being seen to. He thanked her, the general topic postponing more intimate discourse for a moment.
Caroline stood and looked at the gentleman. This was a moment of decision for her, as she had reflected during their brief parting. What had begun as a curiosity for information that she might hold or reveal to her society friends for gain or pleasure had changed forever, had become the seed of intimate knowledge that carried responsibility with it. Irrespective of Sir John’s proposal, did she want that burden? Could she respect it? She had considered her choice this last hour without conscious decision; yet some part of her had made the judgement, and she found herself as he shifted his glance to her saying, “I would like to know more, Sir John.” Though she said no more, her countenance spoke to him of sincerity.
“Then you shall.” Sir John approached Miss Caroline, took her hand in his, and led her to the fireside chairs. They took their seats; he took a deep breath and continued his history.
“My… father… wanted little to do with me. On my mother’s death, I was placed in a home in the village for my infancy where my care was paid. When I was not yet a year old, my father arranged for my transfer to a family some miles away. They raised me as their foster child. He was minor nobility, his wife the daughter of a local squire; they had been childless for many years. To my good fortune, they were delighted to be presented with a son. They were not wealthy, but I never lacked for comfort. For all my knowledge, I was their son… until at the age of seven, I was sent for to attend my brother’s wedding. That is when I learnt my early history, and that my foster parents were not blood relations.
I travelled to my birthplace for the occasion. My sire met me with coldness, closeted us for some time to fill me with admonitions on my behaviour. He impressed upon me the responsibility to uphold his ‘good’ family name in my manners even as he made it clear that my attendance was for observance of rules but that he wanted nothing to do with me, nor did his son and heir. He bought my decorum with threats against my foster family. He filled me with terror.
My brother was no more familial. Together they instilled fear, as well as the utter comprehension that I held no standing with them. I would never be connected with them except for public occasions such as that one and at which I would comply with social requirements in order to save my foster parents from ruin; I would never be party to any of the assets of the family. At such young age, I had little understanding and no care for those things; my foster family was all I needed.
“I saw my sire and my brother sporadically over the years, always for some public event. We were never but cold to each other. I held no feeling but dread for them. In truth, I cared not for their wealth and position if it must go with close relation.”
Sir John noted an expression of genuine empathy in Miss Caroline. So he hastened to add, “I felt no loss of the affection, however. My foster parents were all to the good, and did everything in their power to ensure I led a happy childhood. And other than on those few occasions when I was required for display by my sire, I was content with life. I was educated well, had no dearth of friends, and grew to a young man. By this time, my brother had been presented a son of his own, though I never met him. When I turned fifteen, I chose to have no contact with my odious father or brother, and never once regretted that choice. Nor, I am sure, did they.
Not long after my seventeenth year, a chance accident brought me a change in circumstance. I came upon a travelling entourage which had been beset by thieves. The brigands had not seen my approach and I was able to take them unawares and release the travellers without injury or loss of possessions. The travellers took my name in gratitude – they tried to reward me but I declined with all the stubborn pride of youth – and they continued on their way.
Some month or so afterwards, I was called to appear at court. I had no notion what occasioned the summons; thinking that perhaps my foster father’s slight connections had brought it about. But on my presentation, I learnt that the travelling party I had assisted included a gentleman close to the Prince, and he carried letters which, were they to fall into the wrong hands, could cause embarrassment to the crown.
I had been called to court to receive the gratitude of the Prince, but in truth I came away with much more. I came away with a life’s work. For during my tenure there, I met and came to know a gentleman close to the Prince who ultimately offered me employment. He knew my foster father and held him in regard; he knew of my birth family and recognised the uses of a name association with them, allowing me to travel in the highest circles. And he recognised innate talents I was not even
cognisant of having. He made an offer to train me in the service of the crown; and I accepted, having no other ambition or prospects at the time.”
“My sire, in truth, loathed the idea of public acceptance of me, but he could not refuse such powerful influence; and so my ‘name’ was returned to me, though I loved it little. I marked my time learning to be a spy, learning to disappear from public scrutiny, learning all the arts of subterfuge. And I was a good student. By nineteen, I was no longer an apprentice, and spent the bulk of my time in France, in the King’s service. I have spent the greater part of the last twelve years there. But circumstances have now brought me back to England to reside once again. I am still employed by the crown, but direct the efforts of a web of agents loyal to the Prince.”
Caroline had been silent throughout this discourse, entranced by what she was hearing. Sir John finished by saying, “And that takes me to the night we met. A need of some delicacy drove my personal involvement in this mission, though that has become unusual.”
Sir John leaned forward, forcing Caroline to look deeply into his eyes. “I believe in fate, Caroline, to an extent – my foster family, my saving that travel party – incidents conspiring to lead me here, tonight, to you. I believe your blundering into our mission that night was no accident. We were destined to meet. While on first appearance we seem so very different, I can not believe it. I used you for sport that night, I own, a little distraction of fun amid the serious business; but it was not long before I recognised a kindred spirit in you. And I believe you recognise it as well, though you fight it with all your vigour. We make a pair, Caro. You cannot deny the attraction is mutual.”
“Whether I do or no, sir, an attraction alone is not a basis for marriage,” Caroline replied, though without full conviction behind her words.
“No, not alone. But I believe we are meant for one another. I believe you to hold the same fire inside you that drives me, though we direct them to different objects. I see that fire in your eyes when you are riled – and must confess to occasionally baiting you to see it.” Sir John grinned with sheepish delight. “I would see it more often, in service to something other than anger, for your true beauty derives from it. I can bring that out in you, my dear, I know I can.”
This speech assailed Caroline’s senses, and she looked away from Sir John in a confusion of emotion, embarrassed at the feelings his words had conjured in her. To break her discomfort, she asked in a counterfeit light tone, “I believe my greater curiosity, sir, is just what would I bring out in you?”
~~~~~~
In the kitchen, Sara Allen made another cup of tea for her new friend. She and Joss had conversed quite easily over the first cup, and she looked for a reason to remain longer in his company. Though he was strangely silent on the subject of his master or their business, he was perfectly happy to ask her all manner of questions about herself and her background, and seemed genuinely interested in her replies. She found converse with him to be easy and light; no one had expressed such direct interest in her ever, and she was finding it quite pleasurable.
He was so different from other young men of Sara’s acquaintance. He did not treat her either with counterfeit words of awe or with true disdain for being a maid; in fact, he treated her as an equal. It was a rare and gratifying feeling for the young woman. She did not feel tired at all, though morning was close to breaking. And she found herself blushing every time he turned his gaze on her. He really was very appealing, she thought. She was just coming to believe that she could gain from this association if her mistress and Sir John should form a match, and she determined to do what she could to promote one. Yes, her Joss (for so she already thought of him) could be a boon to Sara with a furtherance of acquaintance!
She was just considering how to again approach Joss to learn more of him, when a noise at the kitchen entrance drew their attention. Turning at the sound, they found Sir John in the doorway, with Miss Caroline slightly behind him just in view. Sir John told Joss curtly that they would leave now, and Joss jumped up to comply with a smart, “Yes, Cap’n.” Sara looked to her mistress, but Miss Caroline’s countenance was closed. Sara could not read her mood.
The others left Sara in the kitchen to clean up the evidence of their tenure there, and made their way to the front door. After a few moments, as she was making her way back to her attic room full of musings on the night’s positive turn, she heard Miss Caroline enter the library and close the door behind her. I wonder, thought Sara Allen, what will become of us all after this night?
~~~~~~
Indeed, a similar thought weaved its way through Caroline’s contemplation as she reviewed this strange evening. She had learnt much, been through an assortment of perplexing emotions, and after all had been said, she was little closer to understanding either Sir John’s wishes or her own.
Caroline returned to her chair by the fire. Sir John had stirred the flames and added logs to it shortly before he left, so the blaze was strong enough; but Caroline did not feel its heat, indeed she shivered slightly. The revelations of this night swirled around in her mind and she could not settle on how she felt.
She had begun with wonder and anger that Sir John had investigated her, that he knew such intimate details of her past. Then he had begun to divulge his own history and, once started, there was no dissembling on his part. It must have taken great fortitude to share such particulars, which Caroline acknowledged with some wonder and gratitude that he had felt he could share the story with her. Indeed, her feelings for him had softened with each new disclosure. And when he had spoken to her again of a partnership between them, of the fire in her that attracted him so, she could almost believe that they were destined to be together.
How had it gone so wrong from there? What indeed, she wondered, will become of us now?
Chapter Nineteen:
An Awkward Encounter
26 April 1797
“T
hank you, Joss. I will be down presently to depart.”
Joss took the words of Sir John as dismissal, and left the dressing room. He did not know quite what to make of his employer these last days; but Sir John was not himself and make no mistake on it. Gone was his usual good humour and quick wit. In its place the gentleman was strangely pensive and unfocused. Even the news Joss had brought to Sir John this evening – of a very successful transfer of their French ‘cargo’ to the crown’s coffers – was met with a distracted nod, rather than the customary exuberance celebrated when a well-laid plan came to a triumphant end; and this particular mission had been a particularly complex but lucrative one.
Joss knew that Sir John had mixed feelings about the changes in his service to the crown since the events of three months ago, when he had returned to be based in London and, for the most part, taken to directing missions rather than participating in them. But Joss did not believe his gentleman’s present preoccupations could be attributed to that. No, Sir John’s current mood must derive from his encounter with Miss Bingley three weeks ago. It was the only logical thing that might change his mood so drastically, and the timing was right. Joss knew no particulars of what had transpired between the Cap’n and the lady – but he knew it was to no good end and Sir John had not seen or spoken to Miss Bingley since that night. If that was what was putting his leader out of sorts, Joss hoped that Sir John and she would find a way to resolve their differences, and soon.
Besides, he thought, there could be added benefits in the Cap’n seeing more of Miss Bingley. That maid of hers, Sara Allen, was a sweet young bit of fluff, and Joss would not mind a chance to further his acquaintance with her. “Sara.” He tried the name out loud, and it sounded good. Such a pretty, unspoilt lass, probably near in age to his own. She had a mobcap of golden curls surrounding her face; and her hair was so light and fine that it bounced around whenever Sara moved her head. And moss-coloured eyes that twinkled when the firelight hit them, or when she laughed. And a figure kept trim, Josh surmised, from waiting attendance on Miss Bingley. I
would not mind the chance to renew an acquaintance with Sara Allen, no sir, thought Joss, not at all.
~~~~~~
While Joss amused himself with these observations, his employer’s thoughts centred on the same address in Hanover Square, if a different lady within. Sir John wondered if he might see Caroline this evening at the Fenchurch dinner. He had not encountered her since their resentful parting three weeks past, when he had left her to consider all he had shared. That she could have heard all he had to say and then doubted his motive was a source of pain to Sir John – a mixture of confusion, annoyance and the incomprehension to know how to bring her to true understanding.
Would a few weeks’ reflection have altered her interpretation of his motives? Would she be willing to move on in their discourse and suspend her erroneous suspicions? Or had her mistaken conclusions only taken further hold of her and closed her mind altogether… for he imagined Caroline could be stubborn and vindictive when her vanity had been provoked. Damn it! He had no illusions about this lady’s character, but she fired his passions in spite of it.
In truth, Sir John had accepted the Fenchurch invitation as part of his planned re-emergence in society, to become better placed for arranging his missions and ferreting out supporters and traitors. The French issue was escalating rapidly, and it was critical to keep abreast of whose sides were being supported, either outwardly or – more importantly – behind salon doors. His recent change in status and all that went with it gave him entrée to this world; and he had used his old acquaintance Fenchurch as the means of introduction to it. The intimate size of this evening’s affair given that many of the ton were still in the country after their Easter sojourns appealed to Sir John more than the impersonality of a ball would do.
