Jack Valentine (Haberdashers Tales Book 4)

by Sue London

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter One

  Aylsham, Norfolk, 1818

  The present was so large she could hardly put her arms around it. Carrying it inside, she sat on the floor and pulled off the red and silver ribbons. Next, the heavy paper was peeled back, and finally she opened the box. Inside, she pulled back thin, crumpled paper, her heart racing with anticipation. She just knew this would be the best Valentine yet.

  Theodora Minett awoke with a small gasp. Drat, but she hadn't seen what was inside!

  "I don't know what's in the box, Pelly," she said to the lump of gray fur on the pillow beside her. The cat yawned and stretched at hearing her voice, rolling to show a fluffy white tummy. She smiled at her companion, scrunching her fingers into his fur the way he liked. "You'd not wake up until you saw what was in it, would you? I've seen you wait outside a mouse hole for a whole afternoon."

  Pellinore purred his response, wriggling a bit under her petting and praise. She turned on her side to more directly address him.

  "Today's the day, you know. Today I start as chair of the committee." She grinned and pulled the cat over to rub noses. "Chair of the Jack Valentine committee! Me!"

  Jack Valentine was a tradition unique to their corner of the world in Norfolk, something of a second Christmas to keep them cheered through the end of winter. Gifts were shared, especially for children, supposedly from the mysterious benefactor Jack Valentine. In Aylsham, a good bit of Jack Valentine spirit was supported by a small group of the upper class. Teddy had volunteered since they deemed her old enough.

  Pellinore ceased purring and flattened his ears. She pulled him to her chest and rubbed at the back of his head.

  "And you know who else will be there, of course. Him." She gave a tiny, pleased sigh. "Arthur Graham. Do you remember his name? Of course you do. Arthur Francis Walter Vivian Graham." She pronounced each name with a quiet reverence. Teddy didn't even know how long ago she'd learned Artie's full name. Perhaps it had been the day that he saved Pellinore from the Questing Beast. That was what Artie had called the horrid little stoat that had set upon the kitten. The weaselly little creature had been too quick for the kitten to possibly combat.

  The cat finally set to purring again, pushing his head more firmly into her scratches.

  "I wish I could bring you, but you know how Lady Hargrove is." Teddy sat up suddenly. "I need to go ask mum if I can borrow her green ribbons."

  Pellinore stalked off to the edge of the bed and set to grooming, his tail twitching slightly.

  "Don't be like that," Teddy said. But she didn't have time to sooth Pellinore's pride. Why hadn't she thought of the green ribbons yesterday? They would be the perfect addition to keep her yellow dress from making her look sallow. It was a shame she had to wear dresses of such pale colors, but the yellow was her most recent and fashionable, thus why she wanted to wear it today. All of the other girls would most likely have dresses from London, or at least Norwich. Teddy was lucky to acquire even one new dress per year from the local seamstress. The rest of her clothing was made at home, and often altered from older frocks or made from remnants. Her family was, to her mind, too well off to complain of being poor, but also too poor to brag of being well off. It made her life awkward in uncounted ways.

  ****

  Artie Graham stood when his mother entered the breakfast room. It was quite a lovely room, with white walls and gilt furniture that managed to take advantage of the meager winter light. If not his favorite room in the house, it certainly vied for the position.

  "Good morning, dear." His mother held her cheek up for a kiss. Artie dutifully kissed the skin that was increasingly papery, then held out her chair so she could be seated. There were footmen for the duty, but she always liked it when her youngest son spoiled her, especially as his father so often traveled for business.

  "How did you rest?" he asked as he resumed his seat.

  "Very well, very well indeed. Not least because," she paused for dramatic effect, "I know my son may decide on a lady to court today."

  He did his best not to grit his teeth. His mother had, of late, been obsessed with the idea of his marrying. It had all started with her illness two years before. In the year without summer she had taken to her bed with such a significant ague that the doctors hadn't even been assured she would survive it. After nearly six months of lung ailment she had finally recovered enough to take some exercise. It had been almost a full year after that until she was well. Her health now seemed a much more precarious thing.

  Prior to her illness, she had always bragged that she and Artie were "two peas in a pod," especially as he was the child who most closely resembled her side of the family, with fair hair and blue eyes. He had been the youngest by five years, and as a child enjoyed her devoted attention while the rest of his siblings were either already married or off at school. Once older, he hadn't enjoyed school, nor the endless cycle of balls and entertainments that came afterwards. Last year she insisted he accept an invitation to a summer house party, an activity that had been excruciating and capped off by witnessing a horrid accident. No, he had always been happiest here, in their country home in Aylsham. Given his druthers it was where he would stay, his mother's dreams of him marrying an heiress notwithstanding.

  "Perhaps, but how will I ever find a wife that could live up to your fine example?"

  She gave a pleased titter. "Oh, stop. You think I can't see what you're doing? You will be six and twenty this year. A splendid time to settle down and give me more grandchildren to dote upon."

  Something most men would see as a very fine prospect, but Artie only thought of what he would lose. This house would one day pass to his eldest brother, and if Artie married for the money he needed to purchase property, it would likely as not tie him to some miss who wanted to live elsewhere. Artie loved Aylsham. The bucolic fields, the river, the grand church. He didn't care for the bustle of London and Norwich, and in his travels had never found a climate he more preferred. As none of the local gels seemed to care a whit for him, it left him undecided over what to do. Eventually his life would change, but he felt no need to rush it along.

  Chapter Two

  Teddy tapped her empty glass on the table to call the meeting to order, as all the committee chairs before her had done. Eight pairs of eyes turned in her direction. This year the committee had grown quite large, but it was simple mathematics. Grant Kellen was there because Lauren Haste had volunteered, and Mary Wells was there because Grant had volunteered, and Phil Knowles because of Mary.

  Everett Hargrove had no choice, as Lady Hargrove insisted at least one her children participate each year. To round out their group, the twins Lucy and Lacy Gage did anything that Lauren did, and Artie Graham, well, he always volunteered. Just like Teddy.

  This year, as chair, she hopefully wouldn't be too shy to talk to him. While effusive at home, she was often quiet as a mouse anywhere else. Her mother would say that Teddy was like a shaken bottle of champagne. At an assembly, for instance, she'd not say a word, but once home would carry on at length about every single dress, who had danced with whom, and the quality of the fare served. One time her mother had fallen asleep on the settee before Teddy finished assessing the use of feathers for the season.

  Teddy knew that as the only surviving child she was indulged far more than she would be otherwise. Who had the patience to listen to such a chatterbox? Only her parents and Pellinore. And hopefully, if the Lord above was good and kind, one Arthur Graham.

  "Thank you all for volunteering this year! We have a mere month to ensure that the children of Aylsham enjoy the very best Valentine's Day."

  "And
our sweethearts," Mary pointed out, mooning over Grant.

  Ignoring Mary's interruption, Teddy continued. "It's very kind of Lady Hargrove to offer us the use of her conservatory again this year to hold our meetings, and store our gifts and supplies. As you can see, her staff has already brought out the items stored from last year. As this is our first meeting, it seems the perfect time to decide who will lead each task that needs to be done and I've made a list of everything from prior years."

  "Why don't you just do it all, Miss Minett?" Grant teased in his lazy, sharp way. "You're well on your way to being Mother Valentine."

  Teddy detested any sort of conflict, even the most mild. "Well, I thought..."

  "I'll be happy to make assignments," Lauren said, plucking the paper from Teddy's hand. "Oh, look, I've found the perfect thing for you, Mr. Kellen. Carrying packages. That shouldn't require either thinking or talking."

  Grant narrowed his eyes. "You know I'd carry anything for you, Miss Haste."

  ****

  Artie was glad Miss Haste had spoken up, because Miss Minett had looked for all the world like a kicked kitten. The girl had a sweet otherworldliness to her, ever since childhood, that she hadn't yet lost. Exposure to Grant Kellen, however, was likely to tarnish anyone.

  Miss Haste once had quite the tendre for Grant, but of course the young man had spent years evading the parson's trap. Now that he was ready to settle down, and considered Miss Haste and her dowry his due, the young lady was making him pay for it. That wasn't conjecture on Artie's part. Not three months ago the girl had told him herself. Right after, of course, telling Artie that he was one of her few true friends in this world. The four cups of ratafia may have contributed to her confessions. She said she would make Grant pay for all the torment he put her through but then, yes, she would marry him. Because love was not a flame that could be extinguished easily, and love him her stubborn heart still did. She made love sound a sort of torture, which Artie did not care for at all. But as Miss Haste was the only eligible lady in the area with a dowry sufficient to purchase a house, her confessions made Artie realize his hopes of settling down in a comfortable home in Aysham were fairly much lost.

  Grant Kellen was actually one of Artie's least favorite people in the world. Something that Kellen, of course, blithely missed or didn't care about. They had the great misfortune of being nearly the same age and going to the same school in their youth. Collectively, Grant, Everett, and Artie had been 'those lads from Aylsham' in their class. Sadly, their origin was all they had in common. Grant was clever and cruel, Everett was bitter and angry, and Artie? Well, he was none of those things. Even though he had detested school, he didn't see the point in making a ruckus about it. He was, well, he supposed he was dutiful. And certainly it was a duty to protect those who needed protection. Although he preferred not to run up against Grant, he would have done so on Miss Minett's behalf. Because she didn't deserve to be lowered by a man who enjoyed lowering others for his own entertainment.

  Perhaps in that way Grant really had met his match in Lauren Haste. Miss Haste was strong enough to not only stand up to his jibes, but give him pointed ones in return. It was a reckless, wicked sort of flirtation they had, and Artie couldn't imagine it would make a good marriage. If that was what Miss Haste wanted, then he certainly couldn't give it to her.

  Chapter Three

  Teddy collapsed on her bed. "I made it through, Pelly! Thank goodness for Miss Haste, though. I never thought us particular friends, but when Mr. Kellen was mean to me, she skewered him! You should have seen it. I wish I had her..." Teddy waved an arm in the air while trying to think of a fitting word. "Confidence."

  She lay there, staring up at the canopy over her bed, considering what she'd just said. Had she no confidence? If she did, what would she do with it?

  "I'd like to think," she said quietly, "that I'd ask Mr. Graham to marry me."

  It was the first time she'd spoken such a thing aloud, and she felt her cheeks heat from the brazenness of it.

  "Oh Pelly, did you hear what I said?" She sat up and looked over to where the cat was curled in the window seat. "I would, though. I'd like to think I would. What do you think he would say? He'd think me silly, wouldn't he? It's not the sort of thing a girl does." She smoothed her hand over the counterpane. "But it's been oh so terribly long, and he's never looked at me as though, you know."

  Was she, when all was said and done, just a silly girl? Was she nursing a tendre for a man who would never look at her as anything other than a young, unsuitable neighbor? It had been torture each time he had gone to Norwich or London. She pored over the newspapers for wedding announcements, cringing with anxiety but needing to know. Perhaps she was just a silly girl. She worried over his possible marriage to another, and he most likely didn't even notice her. She lay back again.

  "It's not fair, Pelly. He'll never offer for me and I'll grow old and die here alone. You'll be long gone by then, so I won't even have your company."

  Was that what would become of her? She had no dowry to speak of, if you didn't count this drafty, ramshackle house she supposed her parents would leave to her. No one had ever shown more than a passing interest in her, and she'd not gone to Town for a Season like some of the local girls. She'd probably be better off looking for a vicar's son to marry than spending all this time fancying a duke's nephew. Not that she hadn't told herself all of these things before, but for goodness sakes she was going to be one and twenty this year and it was past time she considered her future more seriously, or she really would die alone. Whether it would be in this house, she couldn't say.

  ****

  Artie was, he supposed, quite busy for a gentleman. When not consumed with his charity work and own social obligations, he squired his mother about for her calls and shopping trips. It left scant time for what he truly enjoyed. Something he could only refer to as a hobby, and scarce even then. If it were true that gentlemen didn't work, then it was doubly true that they didn't work at anything remotely menial. Wood carving most certainly fit in that category. He might not be the very best carver, but he was certainly the most careful, as he couldn't afford to have evidence of his hobby on his hands. An odd cut or two could be politely covered over with gloves and murmured excuses, but the web of cuts and callouses typical of the trade would be remarked upon with censorious rancor. Once, when his eldest brother found him at his bench, the man had said, "Good God, you don't plan to sell those, do you?" He'd only been a lad of twelve and defended himself with, "I'm only playing!" Now he was far too old for such a defense, but he'd found another one readily enough. Christmas and Jack Valentine. Toys had been the beginning of his intrigue for working wood, and they remained his preoccupation. As a result, dozens of children had new toys every year.

  He was typically very diligent to keep from nicking his fingers too many times, but the emphasis his mother had put on entertainments over the past year had bludgeoned his productivity. The Christmas season had left far fewer toys available for Jack Valentine than he liked. Had he any artistic talent, he would make toy theaters, as those required little wood cutting, but his attempts with a paintbrush were pitiful at best. His sister closest to him in age was actually quite accomplished at painting, it being one of the talents encouraged in young ladies, but it beggared the imagination that she would bother herself to paint dozens of theater sets in time for the holiday. As such, he was up late in the evening to carve simple animals that would be charming enough with a touch of sanding and stain.

  It entertained him that usually when men of his class burned oil late into the night, they did so while drinking and carousing. Those pastimes never held any appeal for him. Yes, he enjoyed a glass of claret or brandy from time to time. He enjoyed the occasional dance or recital, and had an affection for the theater. But he'd never been one for the dissolute life and didn't understand those who chose it. That had, of course, marked him as an odd duck among his kind. Although at times it was an inconvenience to be seen as effete, overall it sav
ed him an enormous amount of time. No one asked him if he wanted to go drinking or gambling or shooting, because they were quite clear that he would prefer not. Further, his discomfort in any of those environments only led his host to preferring he not be there. So, his peers drank and smoked and gambled as was their wont, just as he carved and strolled and chatted for his own contentment. It was, in his estimation, what made the world livable. It was only those who insist others conform to their preferences who made life an unbearable burden. His brother was one such person. And now, with her determination to see Artie married, his mother as well.

  Chapter Four

  Teddy was fairly sure she might cast up her breakfast. She could no longer feel her toes or her fingertips, and didn't know if that was due to the cold, or simply fear. It had all seemed such a good plan this morning. As the chair of the committee of course she would be expected to visit with the committee members to discuss the project. Just such a thought had propelled her from her toasty bed and out into the bitter cold where frost bit through her slippers. Her maid Bernice had complained every fifty yards or so, as though Teddy herself couldn't feel the sting of the air. Now here they were, perched on the doorstep of the Graham house, with Teddy frozen by the thought that she might actually knock on the door and actually ask to speak with Mr. Arthur Graham and what had she been thinking this morning! The only thing keeping her from whirling right back around and running home was knowing that Bernice would never let her hear the end of it.

  "It's a mite bit warmer in there, I suspect," Bernice grumbled.

  Oh, dash it all! There was nothing for it but to knock! Perhaps Lady Graham would have pity on her. She raised her hand for the deed, but the door opened before she could complete the action.

  "Good morning, Miss Minett," the Graham's butler said warmly, knowing Teddy from the regular calls she and her mother made on Lady Graham.