by Hilly Mason
Isla had yet to feel any sort of bond with her parents, be she supposed that was usual after fifteen years of separation as well as a suspected case of amnesia.
Gregory took off his hat and clutched it tightly in his hands. “I want to apologize for the other day. I’m sorry if I did anything untoward…”
Isla snorted. “Oh, aye? Well, that’s an understatement.”
He nodded, looking defeated. “I suppose it is. I seem to not be able to form the words to say how sorry I am to have taken advantage of you like that. I want to assure you that that man you saw that day is not really me.”
Isla cocked an eyebrow. “Who was that man, then? Were ye possessed?”
“Sometimes a man loses his self-control when he meets a beautiful woman like yourself. Of course, that does not give him permission to kiss said woman…”
The only other man who had called her beautiful was Patrick. Not even Jack had told her she was beautiful during the times they had made love. Something inside her stirred, and she cursed herself for reacting as though she was so desperate for a compliment.
“I dinna ken what to say,” she murmured, picking at a loose string on her trousers.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Gregory told her. “Just know that I am sorry.”
Isla nodded. “Aye. All right, then. You’re forgiven.”
Gregory looked visibly relieved. He leaned back and smiled. “So, then. Are you looking forward to your performance?”
“More or less.”
“You’re going to do great. Come, I have something to show you.”
Isla furrowed her brows, wondering what on earth Gregory meant by that. Still, she followed him back into the manor and into the drawing room. Tea was already prepared on the table, and Isla settled herself on the settee. “What is it, then?”
“It arrived just in time,” he said, and she could detect the hint of excitement in his voice. That was when she noticed the large green box sitting on the pianoforte. Her stomach churned. Is he really gifting me with something? Dear Lord. I need to be clearer with my intentions!
Gregory handed her the box. “Open it!” he said eagerly.
Isla took a breath and opened the lid. She brushed the thin sheet a paper away revealing the pink fabric of what could only be a dress.
She stood to unravel the dreaded thing. It was yards and yards of fabric and lace with a bustle at the rump that was only now becoming in style. Isla only knew that because Sophia liked to take her dress shopping in London and would talk her ear off over all of the latest styles. Isla scrutinized the fabric and the sewing job. It was an expensive garment, for sure.
Isla didn’t mind wearing dresses now and again; it was amusing to get dolled up, and she enjoyed going to dinner parties with Lady St. George. But the dress she now held was so ridiculously impractical that she snorted indelicately with laughter.
“Do you like it?” Gregory asked her.
“A dress?”
“Yes, a dress. Your mother helped picked it out for the show tonight.”
“I’ll hardly be able to move in it. Trousers are much more practical.”
“You’ll be fine. People want to see a beautiful woman up on stage, not a woman pretending to be a man.”
For a moment Isla had the urge to drop everything where she was and stomp out of the room, but there was a part of her that did not want to disappoint her parents. She knew she wasn’t working for herself when she agreed to perform in the show. Should she just grit her teeth and wear the silly, frilly dress?
She dropped the dress back into the box rather gruffly. “Fine,” she told him. “I’ll wear the damn thing.”
“Good. It’s settled then. I’ll see you later tonight.”
He left her alone in the drawing room. Isla sat back down on the settee and stared at the garment in her hands. Tears prickled her eyes as she thought about Jack. What would he think, seeing her in something so garish? She smiled through the tears. God, I miss him terribly.
Sighing, she carried the dress up to her bedroom to get changed.
The River Theater was buzzing with activity long before the show was to start.
“I dinna ken so many people were going to attend,” Isla remarked, peeking between the curtains.
Meredith gave her a surprised look. “I thought you were used to crowds.”
“I am, in a way. But this is different. When I was fighting, I wasn’t thinking about being a performer, I was just thinking about knocking my opponent’s teeth out. Now I am on stage like some sort of actor. I won’t be able to ignore the thousands of eyes fastened on me.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Meredith assured her. “Or you won’t. That’s what alcohol is for.”
Isla looked at her hopefully. “Ye have some?”
Meredith produced a flask that had been attached to her garter. She flashed the younger woman a grin. “I always come prepared, lassie.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” Isla said as Meredith handed her the flask. She unscrewed the lid and threw her head back, letting the brandy glide down her throat and into her belly. She straightened her head and wiped her lips. “Damn, that’s good.”
“I get it imported from Ireland,” Meredith told her. “From my cousins who live there.”
“Lucky you,” Isla said. “What I wouldn’t give for an unlimited supply of this stuff.”
Meredith winked at her before disappearing into one of the side rooms to prepare for her own act. Now alone, Isla walked over to Golden. She was pacing in her cage, knowing something was about to happen.
Gregory had told her not to feed Golden too much before the show in order to save her appetite for Isla’s act, so the lion successfully do her tricks for treats. But she could tell that the lion was agitated with hunger.
First glancing around to make sure she was still alone, Isla took one of the dead rabbits out from a wooden chest holding the lion’s food and gave it her. “Eat quickly now,” she told the cat, “Or I’ll get in trouble.” The cat devoured the dead thing greedily. Isla was not the squeamish type, and stayed with Golden until she was purring and rubbing up against her hand.
“The performance is just ten minutes long,” she said out loud, although she wasn’t sure if she was reassuring herself or the lion. “Then we can come back home and rest for a day before the next show.”
“Isla.” Gregory then materialized from nowhere, making Isla jump. “Harry will finish in about two minutes. Time to get ready.”
Isla stood up as Gregory unlocked Golden’s cage. “Stay,” she told the cat as Golden sauntered out of the cage and sat down next to her feet.
“All yours, Isla,” Harry told her as he jogged off stage. “The crowd is great tonight.”
She nodded to him, took a deep breath. With her hand resting on Golden’s back they walked through the curtain. Once on stage, Isla blinked at the bright chandeliers that reflected off the dozens, if not hundreds, of earring and crystal necklaces adorned by the multitude of women sitting in front of her. Every man and woman looked at her expectantly, their eyes wide with fascination as Golden let out a small growl.
Isla’s eyes rested on one man in particular. He seemed to dwarf those seated around him. His head was slightly lowered and he was looking up at her with his golden brown eyes.
Her heartbeat quickened and she almost laughed with relief. So Jack did not go to England after all? He had been here this entire time?
He was sitting in the corner of the theater though he did not wish to be seen. She pursed her lips, oh she’ll let him know she saw him, all right. And she’ll demand to know why he didn’t tell her he hadn’t left!
Perhaps he didn’t want her to know his whereabouts. Was it because he did not care for her as she cared for him? Why else would he be here watching her performance if he didn’t care?
Behind the curtain she heard Gregory clear his throat. She took a deep breath and walked to the center of the stage.
“And now,” said an anno
uncer, “the beautiful Isla St. George with her exotic and deadly companion from the African wilderness, Golden!”
As planned, Meredith rolled a giant metal loop on stage and Isla caught it with one hand, holding it well away from her body. She then gave the cat a nod, and Golden took that cue to jump through the hoop a few times. The room erupted into a loud applause, causing Golden to halt and gaze out into the crowd.
“It’s all right, Golden.” Isla coaxed the obviously nervous lion. “That’s a good lassie.”
A man came on stage to light the candles that surrounded the metal ring. Isla tightly grasped the handle where the flames could not reach her, but her hands were still shaking with anticipation.
Fear fear. For the first time she could actually hear Golden’s thoughts and not just feel them.
Nothing to fear, she replied to her lion. I’m here with you. Just show these numbskulls that you can jump, all right? There are many treats waiting for you after this.
“C’mon, Golden,” she said out loud. The lion hesitated, and for a moment Isla thought that the beast wasn’t going to comply. But quickly, the lion jumped through the burning hoop, unscathed by the hot flames.
The crowd stood up from their seats and applauded loudly. Isla let out a breath of relief.
As the hoop was quickly taken away, Golden took a few steps back and shook her head in agitation.
“It’s all right,” Isla insisted through her teeth as she smiled and waved at the crowd. She didn’t like how Golden’s ears were pointed backward, like an angry housecat. “Just one more act.”
They finally finished the performance with their signature dance. It seemed like eternity before the next performance was announced, and she quickly ushered Golden off the stage.
“That was amazing,” Gregory told her once she had put Golden back in her cage.
She turned to him. “Was it? Golden seemed incredibly nervous.”
“I did not notice anything amiss,” he told her. “And worry not, it will get easier for the both for you the more times you perform.”
“I suppose,” Isla murmured. After feeding Golden, she found a spot on the side where she could watch the rest of the performances in peace. But she soon realized that she was not actually watching the show, she was staring out across the audience toward Jack. He didn’t seem preoccupied by the entertainment either. His eyes were scanning the crowd. Why did he seem so suspicious? What did he know that she did not?
She kept an eye on him throughout the show, and, once the night was over, she continued watching as he got up to leave with the rest of the crowd. Not caring who saw her, she jumped down from the stage and starting pushing through the crowd to reach Jack, but somehow he kept disappearing from her sight.
It was a warm night, and satin dress clung uncomfortably to her sweat-dampened skin as she trotted down the steps and onto the sidewalk. The road was lined up with carriages awaiting the departing show-goers, but she did not see Jack amongst the people entering the vehicles. She turned left, and she turned right, and then finally she saw him, ducking behind a group of people as he headed towards Fourth Street.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Isla muttered. She gathered her skirts as best as she could in her hands and ran after him.
“Jack!” she cried out as she neared him. The man did not turn around to acknowledge her. What if she was completely wrong, and it wasn’t Jack she saw in the crowd but just a figment of her imagination? But as the man turned a corner she saw his profile clearly: the strong, straight nose, the stubborn chin, and his surprisingly neatly trimmed beard.
“Don’t ye dare run away from me again, Jackson Craig!” Isla shouted, before tripping over her skirts and landing hard on the ground. Her hands scraped against the stone ground, scraping the skin on her palms.
With whatever dignity she had left, Isla looked up through her disheveled hair and sat back on her heels. Jack had finally stopped and turned around. He was frowning as he sauntered towards her.
“You’re hurt?” was all he asked as he squatted down beside her.
“Just a scratch,” Isla muttered. She wanted to collapse into his arms but refrained herself.
Jack reached into the breast pocket of his coat and took out a handkerchief. He then took her hands in his and gently pressed it against her palms. Her blood seeped through the thin cloth immediately.
“Will you be all right?” he asked.
“I believe so.”
“That’s a pretty dress you’re wearing.”
“Thank you,” Isla replied, grimacing at the torn garment. “Although I think it is ruined beyond repair after my fall.” She finally was able to mange to look him in the eye. “I thought ye would have left for England by now.”
A shadow crossed his face. “Circumstances changed.”
“What do ye mean?”
Jack leaned closer to her ear, although there was nobody around to hear. “My brother isn’t dead.”
“He’s not dead? How?”
Isla then heard footsteps behind her and knew from the sound of that long, steady gait, and the clinking of the chain of his pocket watch, that Gregory was near. “Isla, are you all right? What happened?”
Isla finally stood up and brushed herself off. Her dress was torn at the hem, as she suspected, and she had gotten a bit of blood and dirt on the skirt. Perhaps this would prove to the stubborn Gregory that trousers were indeed more practical than a bundle of skirts.
“Och, I’m quite fine,” she told him. “I took a bit of a fall, but Lord Craig was nearby to assist me. I suppose I’m ready for the carriage to take me home.” She was talking rather quickly, for she noticed the way the two men were sizing each other up. Jack straightened his legs, standing to his full height. The way he towered over the other man was almost comical.
“You’re Jackson Craig, are you not,” Gregory held out his hand for Jack to shake, but Jack tucked his hands under his armpits instead.
Isla noticed how tightly Jack clenched his teeth together before he spoke. “Yes, I am. It is surprising that we have not formally met in the years we both have served the Murrays. You knew my brother.”
“Yes, I am sorry to hear about your loss.”
Jack nodded stiffly. “Thank you.”
“Are you ready to come home then, Miss St. George?” Gregory asked amicably.
She did not like the way Gregory spoke as though they were living together. By the dark look on Jack’s face, it seemed he had similar thoughts.
“Actually, I need to speak with Lord Craig for a wee bit, if ye don’t mind waiting,” Isla said with forced politeness. “I’ll meet you by the carriage in five minutes.”
“Very well.” He tipped his hat at the both of them and walked back down the street, softly whistling a jaunty tune.
“Stay away from that man.”
Isla turned to Jack abruptly “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t trust him.”
“Well, I don’t trust him either.”
“Then why do you let him work with you?”
“It’s not my choice. It’s my parents.” She shrugged. “Besides, he hasn’t done anything too untoward…”
Jack turned to her, anger burning in his eyes. “What did he do to you?” he demanded.
He’s killed a man, the words whispered through her mind, causing her to shiver.
“He kissed me,” she told him, curious to see how he would react to that. The man’s body stiffened, and his eyes grew darker. “But don’t worry, I let him ken what I thought about it.”
Jack didn’t seem reassured. He was glaring at the direction Gregory walked off towards.
“Why does it bother ye so much?” Isla crossed her arms. “I’ll have you ken that I bit him hard on the lip. He hasn’t tried to do that to me since, so I think I got my point across.” She began to walk back to the carriage, and Jack matched her pace beside her. “Why did ye go to my performance if ye did not want to see me?” she shook her head. “Ye left so abruptly that
day. I… it felt like we didn’t wrap things up neatly between us. Don’t ye think so too?”
“Miss Isla, everything that happened on the ship… it wasn’t supposed to happen that way. I promised myself that I wouldn’t get close to you.”
“But it did happen,” Isla said firmly. “And it’s not like we can verra well forget about it. So what happens next?”
There was silence between them, and an aching in her heart.
“I’m sorry,” Jack finally said. “I… I didn’t think I would fall in love with you.”
Isla’s breath caught in her throat. She glanced at the man out of the corner of her eye. Jack’s gaze was firmly on the road in front of them.
“If ye do love me,” Isla said slowly, her voice quivering. “Why were ye trying to run away from me?”
“I’m not the right man for you.”
Isla knew this had nothing to do with how he treated her when they were children. “What happened?” she asked, suddenly shivering. “Will you be willing to tell me?”
A look of pain crossed his face. He opened his mouth, and then closed it, as though searching for words. He’s ashamed, Isla realized, of his past. Could Jack really be so ruthless and kill in cold blood? It was difficult for her to believe it.
“You’re not safe at the Murrays,” he finally said.
Isla folded her arms across her chest.
“Oh, aye? Why is that?”
She noticed how he glanced down the street at Gregory, who was leaning against the carriage, waiting for them to finish.
“This is about Gregory, isn’t it?” What dark secrets did both of these men hold so tightly?
“My brother—”
His voice was broken by loud screaming coming from the River Theater. Isla whipped her head around as she saw a stream of people pouring from the building before hearing a loud roar.
“Golden,” Isla gasped. “Oh hell. She must’ve escaped.”
“Isla!” Jack called after her after she took off down the road, but his voice was lost in the cacophony of yells and shouts from the terrified spectators.
