by J. A. Rock
“You heard my mother,” he protested. “There are children in this house.”
“A fair point.” Chant rubbed Gale’s arse slowly, up and down each cheek, squeezing every now and again. He tugged the fabric of Gale’s breeches a bit tighter. Gale muttered in frustration when he could not achieve the right angle to rub his cockstand against the sofa and pulled himself farther up across Chant’s lap so he might grind against Chant’s leg.
It took only a moment of squirming and shifting his hips, and then his breath shuddered out of him and he let his full weight rest over Chant’s thighs.
Chant gave him another swat. “No more,” Gale murmured. “I’ve learned. I do swear it, Chant.”
“Good,” Chant whispered. “Very good.” Gale started to sit up, unsure about what he was feeling. There was such safety in being with Chant. But his stomach was twisting, and his heart still hammered. Instead of rising, He curled himself sideways around Chant, knowing how awkward his lanky frame must look balled up like this. He buried his head between Chant’s hip and the back of the sofa, arms tucked ungracefully against his chest. The dampness of the spend in his pants was uncomfortable, but it was a welcome discomfort.
Chant rubbed his back. Occasionally, his hand travelled higher, fingers running through the hair at Gale’s nape, and Gale’s heart slowed until he felt almost at peace.
“I was not a well-behaved child,” Gale said eventually, hoping Chant could hear him, for he did not wish to repeat himself. It was hard enough to speak as it was. “I gave my tutor, Marsh, a great deal of trouble. I didn’t necessarily mean to. But I found my lessons very dull. I think he resented me for knowing more than he did and took satisfaction in finding my weaknesses and making sport of them. My mother thinks the story of me avoiding a whipping from him is quite funny, but I was humiliated, in truth, by the way he treated me, though I feigned arrogance and indifference at the time. The topics I was extraordinarily knowledgeable about or interested in became topics he would avoid, and he would replace them with more… practical examinations, I suppose? Of my social skills or—or how people function in a society. Things I had an insufficient grasp of. And these were not lessons. They were tests, designed to draw a line under my deficiencies. I did not always understand what was being asked of me. And I was rather frightened of being… disappointing.”
“Ah.” Chant’s touch was so steady and gentle, Gale could scarcely muster the energy to be embarrassed by his own words.
“It’s not an excuse for how impertinent I was. And still am. I just… wanted you to know.”
“That ought not to have happened to you. And I am very sorry that it did.”
“It is past.”
“I should not have teased you. I do not truly think children should be whipped. I hope you know. And I certainly do not think you should have been.”
“No, it is fine. I… I suppose I like you teasing me about it. It is only a memory. I’ve not told anyone before.”
Chant stroked the back of his neck. “You will not disappoint me.”
“Perhaps I will.” Gale swallowed, glad he had nothing to look at but the sofa’s upholstery. “I’m certain I will, at times. But I do trust you will forgive me, and so I wondered… might I ask you, if there is something I don’t understand? I know it sounds very silly, and I’m not even sure what an example would be. But if you, or someone else… oh Christ, I don’t know. If you are clearly feeling some way, and I’m not sure why, but I can tell it’s the sort of thing most people would pick up on intuitively… could I ask why, or would it upset you to be asked? Would it make you wish I were better at just… understanding and giving you what you needed?”
“It’s not silly at all. You may always ask,” Chant said. “And I will do my best to explain. But for what it’s worth, I think you understand what I am feeling quite well. Much of the time.”
Gale exhaled.
“You are quite a wonder, you know.”
Gale stilled. He knew Chant did not mean it the way the papers meant it. The way people on the street meant it. He did not mean that Gale's investigative ability was some circus trick that he wished to be able to see on command. He meant Gale. Gale himself.
How terrifying.
Gale rolled onto his back, gazing up at Chant. “I do know. And I'm glad to see you know it too.” It was difficult to glare haughtily in this position, and by the time the smile spread across Chant’s lips, Gale was laughing too. Openly and without reservation, putting his arms up to shield himself as Chant shifted out from under Gale, careful to keep Gale from rolling off the sofa. Chant straddled him, and Gale pushed half-heartedly at his chest.
Chant somehow wormed around Gale’s shielding arms and kissed his neck, which made Gale laugh harder. “I’m sorry,” Gale gasped. “I’m sorry.”
“You hardly sound it.” Chant nipped his throat, batting Gale’s hands out of the way. They struggled, both laughing, until they tumbled off the sofa and landed in a tangle of limbs on the rug.
“Oh God,” Gale said between gasps. “You’re crushing me.”
“Your extremely bony knee is somewhere very personal,” Chant ground out.
A knock on the door startled them both. “Boys,” Lady Gale called. “I’m sorry to interrupt your ‘business’ discussion. But we have a most unexpected guest.”
Chapter 19
Gale stared first at the dirty-faced boy in the entryway and then shifted his gaze along the rope the boy held to the giant, shaggy mongrel at the end of it.
“My God,” Chant whispered behind him. “Is that…”
“Flummery!” Elise cried, shoving between Gale and Chant. She dropped to her knees and hugged the beast, who wagged some part of himself Gale presumed was his tail, and then a great pink tongue snaked out from the other end of him and lapped at Elise’s face.
Gale’s sisters had all crowded into the hall and were talking so loudly Gale could scarcely hear himself think. The boy explained that he’d seen this great hairy dog eating scraps behind a pie cart in Jacob’s Island, and he’d wondered if Gale was still in need of a great hairy dog. Gale gave the boy a coin and thanked him sincerely before sending him on his way.
He cringed at the amount of filth stuck in the dog’s matted fur. He did not wish to interrupt the happy reunion, but he felt it quite important to figure out if de Brouckère’s jewels still adorned the beast. So he crouched down. “Hello, Flum,” he said, trying to sound casual and friendly. He could not tell if the creature was looking at him or not. “Hey, old fellow, come here now. Nice and easy. Nothing to be scared of.”
Chant cleared his throat. “Perhaps Elise could teach you how to call a dog without sounding as though you are leading him to a chopping block to slaughter him for his meat.”
Gale’s sisters giggled.
Elise turned to Chant, scandalised. “Lord Christmas wouldn’t kill a dog. Anyone who would is a nasty piece of work!”
“I agree, Elise,” Chant assured her. “I am only teasing Lord Christmas.”
“Well, if you’re so good with dogs,” Gale snapped at Chant, “perhaps you could call him.”
Chant crouched down next to Gale and called to Flummery, who bounded over at once. Elise laughed with delight. Gale held his tongue and was quite proud of himself for it.
Chant began stroking the dog, feeling around the creature’s neck for the collar the sailors had described. He shook his head at Gale after a moment. Gale tentatively put a hand out and parted the dog’s fur, feeling around between the mats.
The dog didn’t wear a collar at all. And there were no edges that would indicate jewels braided into the filthy locks. Gale was not surprised.
“How unfortunate,” he said calmly. Flum stopped panting and glanced up at him. At least Gale thought he was glancing up at him. Difficult to say.
“What’s the matter?” Clarissa asked.
Gale rose slowly, his knees popping. “De Cock’s sailors wrapped priceless jewellery around this fellow’s collar befo
re he escaped the ship. All this time, we thought the key to finding the jewels was to find Flummery. But the jewels aren’t here.”
He helped Chant to his feet, and a moment later felt a tug on the leg of his breeches. When he looked down, Elise stood there, staring solemnly at him. He was fairly sure he knew what she was going to say, and he kept his gaze steady on hers.
“Flummery was wearing jewels,” she said very softly. “When Pa brought him home.”
Gale’s eyebrows lifted. “Was he?”
“You couldn’t see them through all his hair, but I was petting him, and I found them. They were so pretty. I was afraid Pa would sell them if I showed him. He’s always trying to sell things, but he loses his money at cards.”
The room had gone silent, and Gale hoped having an audience wouldn’t discourage Elise from speaking. She went on. “I hid them. And that’s why the captain wanted Flum. That’s why he killed Pa.”
“Where are the jewels now?”
“I had ’em with me, in my skirt, when I came here. You saw them once, Lord Christmas!”
“Eugenie was wearing de Brouckère’s stolen jewels in the play.” Gale said as steadily as he could. He thought he’d been prepared for Elise’s confession, but hearing it out loud was a bit more painful than he’d imagined. “Right in front of me,” he said out the side of his mouth. “It all happened right in front of me, Chant.”
Chant placed a hand on his shoulder, and Gale forced himself to draw a breath before speaking again. “Where are they now, Elise? At this particular moment?” Elise hurried from the room, and Gale heard her pounding up the stairs. He turned to Chant, not quite able to meet the other man’s eye.
“You knew,” Chant whispered.
“I suspected.”
“De Cock thought it as well.”
“Yes.” Gale sighed heavily. “She had them this whole time. I cannot,” he said. “Chant, I simply cannot.”
“There’s no harm done.”
“No harm done? You almost died.”
“I would argue that you almost died, as you were the one who couldn’t swim.”
“I asked her. I practically begged her to tell me…”
“She had her reasons.”
Gale sighed. “Who will give me strength since I don’t believe in the Lord?”
“I will. Pull yourself together and be kind to the child.”
Elise was back a moment later with a small velvet bag that rattled lightly as she handed it to Gale. Gale peered inside, then turned away at once as though the bag held a dead rat. “Good grief.”
Chant glanced inside. “Astounding.”
The sapphire necklace. The ruby bracelet. All the pieces Visser had wrapped around Flummery’s collar. That Elise had volunteered to Eugenie for their pageant without telling her where they’d come from, but that she couldn’t possibly have just… told… Gale… about.
“Elise,” Gale said. “Why on earth didn’t you say anything?”
Lady Gale stepped forward. “Christmas, don’t shout at her.”
“I’m not shouting—”
“I wanted to tell you!” Elise stared him in the eye. “But you said whoever was responsible for Pa’s death ought to hang. If I hadn’t ever taken the jewels, Pa wouldn’t have got killed. It’s my fault, what happened to him! And if you’d known what I did, you would’ve put me in gaol same as the captain.”
Gale was genuinely blindsided. “How could you possibly think that?”
“It’s my fault!” she shouted, her eyes wild. Tears streamed silently down her face accompanied by tiny, almost imperceptible hitches in her breath.
Gale knelt in front of her and took her hand.
“No,” he said firmly. “Listen to me. Sometimes bad things happen, horrible things. And they make us feel so small, like we have no control over anything in the world. And so we give ourselves control by imagining we’re the villain, the one who brought about these horrible things. We give ourselves that power, thinking it will make us feel safer, but all it really does is give us permission to eat away at ourselves with blame.”
A slight movement caught his eye, and he looked up to see Chant watching him. Chant gave him a tight-lipped smile, his eyes suspiciously glossy.
“You did not get your father killed by hiding the jewels. You did not make de Cock a cruel man by keeping that secret. De Cock is a man who hurts people. And I’m so terribly sorry it was your family he hurt. But it is not your fault.”
Elise leaned forward without a word, and he did too, wrapping his arms around her.
“I think your pa would be very proud of you,” he whispered.
He figured it was true enough. He might have thought her a more impressive child had she simply told him in the first place that her stray dog had come to her covered in stolen jewels. But Chant was looking at him with such pride and probably thinking Gale would be a far more impressive adult if he had simply told Chant in the first place that he was dreadfully in love with him. So Gale was not going to split hairs.
Flummery snuffled his way between them, and Gale let go of Elise so the dog could better lick her face. Elise laughed and wiped her nose with her fist. She looked at Gale again. “You mean that?”
“Every word.”
“I never wanted you and Mr. Chant to get hurt. I really didn't.”
His chest constricted. What was happening to him? It must be a heart attack brought on at such a young age by the unholy amount of stress he had been put through. By this child, by Benjamin Chant, by this blasted dog, by the entire world and its insistence on existing. “I know that.”
Elise drew back and looked at him solemnly. “Are we going to give the jewels to your friend? The one who likes you even though you’re in love with Mr. Chant?”
Chant snorted, and Gale felt himself colour up. “Yes, I suppose that is one possibility.”
Elise was soon drawn into a conversation with some of Gale’s sisters, who wished to know more about her discovery of the jewels on the dog. Chant and Gale watched the bedlam around them as Helene stepped in a puddle of Flummery’s drool so thick it pulled her slipper off, and Flummery chased Eugenie, trying to grab the ribbons on her dress, and Cordelia declared she would compose a new piano piece inspired by the stolen jewels. Chant said softly, so only Gale could hear, “Well, I guess there’s no other recourse but for the two of us to wed and then adopt the girl. And the dog, of course.”
He slapped Gale’s shoulder, then walked off to join the girls in trying to corral the dog.
“Wed?” Gale called after him, horrified. And then it hit him. “Adopt?”
“Oh, good!” His mother was suddenly beside him. “I was hoping you would agree that adopting Elise is the only logical course of action. We simply can’t take her to the parish, Christmas.”
A moment ago, Gale had been sure his cheeks were scarlet. Now he felt all the colour drain from his face. “You can’t be serious.”
“So you would take her to the parish? Oh, and to think a devil like you is my own flesh and blood.”
“No! I… But perhaps we could…place her with a nice family…”
“We are a nice family, Christmas. Well, perhaps that is being generous,” she added as Cordelia screeched that Anne-Marie was a greater oaf than the dog. “But the girl could do worse.”
Gale gestured desperately at the girls. “These are already more sisters than God ever intended any man to have.”
“Then I suppose it’s a good thing you don’t believe in God, isn’t it?”
“If I needed any further proof of His nonexistence, it is this conversation we are having.”
“It’s no use pretending you’re not fond of her, love. You never were very hard to read.”
“You are the only person who thinks that.”
She twitched her lips and cut her eyes toward Chant, who had smoothed things over between Cordelia and Anne-Marie and was attempting to get Flummery to sit. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
Gale’s c
hest grew tighter. The end must be near. He wished his body would get on with the business of collapsing into a pile of twitching, spider-like limbs and black bile.
“I'm very proud of you, you know,” his mother said softly.
“Why?”
“There's no one reason. I just am.”
He ran the tip of his tongue along his teeth.
“I suppose your heroic rescue of the man you love from the clutches of a murderous pirate didn’t hurt,” she mused.
He turned to face her. “I didn’t know what I was doing,” he confessed quietly. “I just knew I couldn’t lose him.”
She smiled, fondly and perhaps a little sadly. “I know.” She lifted her arms, “May I?”
Gale gave the slightest nod and stepped forward. She put her arms around him, and after a few seconds, he placed his arms around her too. And then squeezed a bit harder than he’d meant to. She always seemed such a tall, imposing figure, but in this moment, she felt slight and breakable, and he felt a new rush of panic at how easy it was to lose people. He breathed in her familiar scent, one he had known since his earliest days of awareness, and let his head fall against her shoulder. “I love you,” he mumbled.
Her arms tightened around him. “I love you too. Have since the moment I laid eyes on you. Before that, even.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been so much trouble.”
She hummed softly into his hair, then drew back, taking his hands in hers. “I dare say I enjoy a bit of trouble almost as much as you do.”
He tried to smile.
“I have never wanted you to be any other way than how you are,” she said. “You know that, don’t you?”
He turned away, not wanting her to see whatever was in his eyes at that moment. That was a mistake because his gaze landed instantly on Chant, who was sitting on the floor with an arm slung around Flummery, talking to Cordelia about her new piano piece. “How do I make sure I don’t hurt him?” he asked, and even knowing how foolish the question was didn’t stop him from meaning it with his whole heart.
