Mara: A Georgian Romance

by Barbara T. Cerny

  Chapter 54

  Harry Paulus awoke in his cell to the sounds of a very drunk and belligerent man being thrown in with him. He turned his back, covered his head with the pillow and went back to sleep. Stupid drunks. How come the drunks were always thrown in his cell?

  The next morning, he appraised the young gentleman snoring loudly on the bunk next to his. Usually the drunks were common folk, dressed in the dirty clothes of the poor. This man, barely out of boyhood, was very well dressed—obviously not a poor drunk.

  Paulus thought once again about his own lot in life. He had been on his way to America when he had succumbed to the flirtations of one Mrs. Abrams. After their encounter, the goddamned captain had thrown him in the ship’s brig, and kept him locked up for the remainder of the trip across the Atlantic. He had then been turned over to the police in America and again locked up. The judge had convicted Paulus based on what the captain had reported about the attack, what the doctor said about the wounds he treated, and what Mrs. Abrams had told him. The judge had completely ignored Paulus’ side of the story, and he was extremely bitter over the whole thing. He was sentenced to two years in this goddamned cell as a result. Six more months to go, and then he was going to hunt down that beautiful Mrs. Abrams and finish what he started.

  The drunk awoke when breakfast arrived.

  The two men ate in silence, trays on their laps, appraising each other across the narrow space.

  The new man spoke first. “So, what are you in for?” He spoke with a cultured English accent.

  Paulus replied in the same cultured English accent. “Assault.”

  The new man nodded. “I obviously had a little too much of the libations at the tavern, and found myself in a bit of a scuffle.” He put out his hand to shake. “Edwin Markham, at your service, my good man.”

  Paulus took the proffered hand. “Harry Paulus. You’re obviously English, and a member of the aristocracy, given your speech and dress.”

  Edwin snorted. “Was. Now I am a refugee in America.”

  “There is probably a story in there somewhere, my good man. Care to share it?”

  Edwin gave another snort, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the wall.

  “I ran away from a contemptuous father, and a more contemptuous fate.”

  Harry also leaned back against the wall. This might be a good tale!

  He listened while Markham talked about his father’s quest for a title—if not for himself, then for his sons and grandsons. His father had arranged for Edwin to marry a woman who was five years his senior, and looked like a horse with a long face, big nose, patchy skin, and skinny body. Lady Betty’s one redeeming quality was that she had access to a title. She was the only child of an earl; her son would one day bear the title. The plan was for Edwin to father that young earl, putting his own father’s branch of the Markham family back into the titled aristocracy.

  Edwin went along with this scheme for a while, until he realized he couldn’t even bring himself to kiss Lady Betty, let alone father a child with her. Being saddled with this homely woman for the rest of his life was more than the twenty-one-year old could bear. He and his father had several terrible rows over it, the final one coming to blows.

  “And then, he had the temerity to take out his horse whip and whip me as if I were a common stable hand like Abbot!”

  Paulus raised an eyebrow. Sometime in the past, he’d heard about another boy being whipped by his father. He searched his memory, trying to place the story.

  Markham stood up and walked to the bars, resting his arms through two of the vertical steel slats. “Abbot, now there’s a tale to tell.”

  “We have nothing but time in here, mate, so you might as well tell that tale also. But first, finish telling me how you ended up here.”

  Markham picked at some lint on his sleeve, as he thought about his sister’s kidnapping. It may have all started with that—if she hadn’t been kidnapped and had produced a male heir for the duke, he’d probably never have been forced into the situation with Betty. He blamed Lord Phantom for his fate.

  “After father whipped me, I went crazy and thrashed him soundly. I had to run for it. He’d have killed me if I had stayed. You don’t know my father. He is very rich, and very influential in London society. I jumped on the first ship sailing for America, and here I am.”

  The men were silent for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

  “You mentioned an Abbot. What does he have to do with all this”?

  “Everything and nothing. It is actually a story about my sister, Mara.” He returned to his cot and sat back down.

  “When my sister was young, she was the fattest child you could imagine.” Paulus listened intently as Edwin talked about his sister, her weight, and how they had teased her. He told him about the stable hand, Abbot, and the gardener, Alvin, who protected her from Edwin and his brother, and their cousins. He described how his father had whipped Abbot, and Mara and Termins had come to his rescue.

  “Then there was the Masque. You have heard of it, yes?” Paulus nodded. Everyone in London society knew about the Masque.

  “Mara came to the Masque dressed as Madame Butterfly, in this incredible dress and wings with a headdress of beads and a mask of feathers. She looked stunning, and we didn’t know who she was. Somehow, she had lost a lot weight but kept it a secret from us by pretending to still be fat. No one could figure it out. All of us men desperately wanted to meet her, but in the end, the Duke of Cleveland caught her. My father finally figured out that Mara was Madame Butterfly, I guess, and arranged for her to marry the duke.”

  He paused in his reverie. “If she hadn’t been my sister, I’d…” He looked at Harry. “She had this incredible head of curly red hair and the most unbelievable green eyes and flawless skin. And finally, she somehow managed to get the body of a goddess to match her good looks. She was the most beautiful woman in London.”

  Harry sat up straight. His new bunkmate described Elizabeth Abrams! Could there be two women like that in England? Harry’s brain sparked on fire.

  Markham went on to describe the wedding day, the kidnapping, the deaths of Abbot and Cecilia, the jewel heist, the letters from Lord Phantom, and the final blow to the duke when he realized the Cleveland family jewels were gone forever.

  “I don’t remember hearing about this. Surely it was the talk of the town!”

  “Absolutely! The London aristocracy talked of nothing else for months.”

  “When did all this take place?”

  “June 3rd of last year.”

  Paulus’ jaw dropped. The Fleetwood had sailed on June 4th.

  “And do you know the worst of it?” continued Edwin. “We found out later that the crates and wagons carrying all the wedding gifts to the duke’s country estate had been taken by highway robbers! It was as if the entire event had been cursed by the gods. Nothing went right, everything went wrong, and the duke lost it all.”

  Crates, wagons, June, red-headed woman, whippings. Paulus’ head swam. “Describe the crates and wagons.”

  Odd question, thought Edwin.

  He described the crates. “They were a marvel really, designed by the apprentice gardener. They were hinged on the side and back, and were built to fit exactly in the wagons. The crates had these doors that opened to the sides for easy loading and unloading. Very clever design. My father had a set made for us a few months after the kidnapping.”

  Paulus put his head in his hands. Those were exactly like the crates and wagons James Abrams showed him on the ship. Abrams had been very proud of the design, and showed them off to the banker during one of their conversations. Paulus became certain there was a connection between the people he’d met on the Fleetwood and the Markham family. He kept digging deeper.

  “Describe Abbot.”

  “Why?” Edwin thought that was another most unusual request. “Why describe a dead man?”

  “Because, I don’t think your sister was kidnapped, and I don’t thin
k Abbot is dead. I think she planned or participated in the whole event to run away with him. To escape England and your father, like you did.”

  Edwin stood up. “WHAT?!”

  “Sit, man, and describe Abbot.”

  Edwin sat, confused and agitated. “Um, very tall, lean. The ladies think he’s good looking. Blond hair, good teeth, smiles with only half his face. Don’t think I ever noticed his eye color.”

  “Abrams.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind. Describe the supposedly dead maid.”

  He gave Harry a sideways glance, extremely curious now at the odd line of questioning. “Fortyish, black hair beginning to gray, pulled in a tight bun, average size, mole on chin about here.” He pointed at his own chin.

  “Ellen.”

  “What are you talking about, man? Who are Abrams and Ellen?”

  “Your Abbot posed as James Abrams on the Fleetwood—the ship I sailed on eighteen months ago. We left on June 4th, the day after the kidnapping. Your sister posed as his wife, Elizabeth Abrams. The maid posed as a woman named Ellen.”

  Edwin stared at Harry, flabbergasted. “Elizabeth? Of course!” He slapped his forehead. “Mara Elizabeth Markham. Elizabeth Abrams. Oh, my God!”

  The puzzle pieces began to come together. Edwin finally understood what had really happened. The room spun, and he had to put his head between his legs before he passed out. It all made perfect sense. All of London had been duped completely.

  Now it was Paulus’ turn to talk. He told Edwin all about the trip over, his conversations with Abrams and his two men, Pierson and George, the rumor about Abrams having scars from a whipping, the wagons and crates, the ladies’ maid, the two male servants. He described the very attractive redheaded Elizabeth. “And she has this little space between her two front teeth that gives her the most sensual smile.”

  A space between her teeth. Mara. Edwin now knew, without a doubt, that Mara and Jake had planned and pulled off the most elaborate criminal coup in the history of London.

  It was all a lie, an elaborate lie, and they had gotten away with it. Until now.

  Markham began to pace the tiny space.

  Paulus was thoughtful. “Here I am in this godforsaken cell for two bloody years for an assault on a woman. But look what she has done—stolen a fortune in jewels and wedding gifts, faked two murders, and led the London constabulary on a wild goose chase. She is free and I am locked up—where is the justice in that?!” He growled deep in the back of his throat. “I want revenge, and I am sure you do, too!”

  Edwin looked at his cell mate. “The assault was on my sister?” Amazingly, he wasn’t enraged. How could he be, when he’d had the same thoughts himself of stealing kisses after her dramatic metamorphosis?

  Harry shrugged his shoulders.

  “You are right, Paulus. We both want revenge. I want the bloody fortune and Abbot’s head, and you want my sister. Where do we start?”

  “We first have to be released from here.”

  *****

  The sheriff released Markham later that evening, on his own recognizance. Paulus still had six months remaining on his sentence. He and Edwin would use those six months to plan their revenge.

  Edwin immediately went on a quest to locate his sister and the others. Now that he had purpose once again, the taverns and the mead no longer controlled him.

  His father had set him up with his own accounts on his twenty-first birthday, and had deposited several thousand pounds in anticipation of Edwin’s marriage to the earl’s daughter. Money wasn’t an issue. He had removed the funds immediately upon running away and had deposited in a bank in New York upon his arrival.

  His first stop was immigration. The government clerk was most helpful. After all, these were public records, and he was the public!

  He expected to see James and Elizabeth Abrams listed, and was shocked to find the following names clearly written in the registry under the date July 18th of last year.

  Jacob James Abbot

  Mara Elizabeth Abbot

  Lucas George Holloway

  Peter Pierson Smithers

  Cecilia Ellen Montgomery

  The bloody fools had used their real names! Cocky bastards must have thought they’d never be found. He now had the names of the two men who had acted as kidnappers and had stolen the wagons and crates—Lucas Holloway and Peter Smithers. Edwin had no idea how Holloway and Smithers fit into this whole scheme, or where Jake and Mara had found them, but the connection between all of them stared him in the face.

  James, Elizabeth, George, Pierson, and Ellen—the players on the Fleetwood. Jake, Mara, Lucas, Peter, and Cecilia—the players in the kidnapping and jewelry heist. Perfect.

  Even if Abbot and his sister had lived in sin on the ship, he was sure they were properly married by now. He would search church records next.

  Then he’d be off to the land and title companies for a search, as he was sure they had bought land. Abbot had told Paulus of his desire to breed horses. With the ten he had stolen, plus whatever they might have bought in New York, they’d need plenty of land for a breeding farm.

  His search of church records led him nowhere. After two weeks of visiting church after church and coming up empty-handed, he gave up. Not important anyway.

  He visited Thomas’ Land and Title Company, and hit the jackpot.

  Jacob and Mara Abbot had purchased over ten thousand acres of virgin land in a place called Adair County, Kentucky. Adair! The irony of the name was not lost on him. You had to give them credit for a sense of humor, thought Edwin.

  The clerk meticulously copied the location information on a piece of paper for Edwin, and on another for Lord Markham. Edwin now knew exactly where to find them.

  He then sat and wrote a long letter to his father with all the details he and Paulus had compiled about the crime and fraud. His father would not stand for this kind of deception, and would immediately issue a warrant for Abbot’s arrest. Abbot wouldn’t live long enough for the government to act on that warrant, since Edwin planned to take care of the bastard himself. However, the arrest warrant would allow Edwin to kill Abbot without repercussion, since he would be a known and wanted criminal.

  He put the letter and the copy of the land grant in an envelope and posted it back to England. He smiled as the clerk put the postage on the envelope and dropped it in the bin. The wheels had started turning.

  *****

  The letter from the wayward son, Edwin, arrived in the weekly post. Termins delivered it straightaway to the master.

  Lord Markham took one look at the handwriting, and threw it in the trash bin. “Edwin is no longer my son. I have one child left, Bertram, who is now betrothed to Lady Betty. My grandson son will be an earl.”

  Termins sighed knowing that on his eighteenth birthday, Bertram would wed the unattractive woman. He returned to the library after dinner, and pulled the letter out of the trash. He tucked it in his jacket pocket. He had decided during the day that he’d read it himself, and if there was anything Lady Maureen needed to know, he’d tell her when she returned from visiting her cousin.

  He took the letter to his room, and read it by candlelight. The emotions it elicited were conflicting and overwhelming—surprise, joy, shock, and disbelief. Jake and Cecilia alive! Mara had planned the kidnapping! They were in America with the two kidnappers. Luke and Pete hadn’t left when everyone thought they had. It was more than his old mind could fathom.

  He tucked the letter in the far back corner of a drawer. He’d have to think about his next move. If he told Lady Maureen about the contents of the letter, he’d be putting Jake and Mara and the others in grave danger. If he didn’t tell her, he’d be complicit in a major robbery and swindle. Termins needed to sleep on it and determine where his loyalties lay.

  Termins relived the entire ordeal in his mind during the night, replacing events with facts he now knew. He realized the brilliance of the scheme and the brilliance of the playacting. They had all played their pa
rts magnificently—Luke and Pete pretending to go to America weeks ahead of the wedding, Mara’s calm resignation at having to marry the duke, and Jake’s deep depression.

  He knew now that Alvin had been a part of it, too. He figured Alvin delivered all the pre-written and trumped-up letters from Lord Phantom, and had acted the part of the grieving friend. Now he, too, was no doubt with the group in America.

  Brilliant, bloody brilliant. A bunch of youngsters had duped the entire British aristocracy and constabulary. He was actually impressed at their audacity and courage, all because two young people had fallen in love. Never underestimate the power of the heart.

  The next morning, a tired but resolute Termins got out of bed, walked straight to the kitchen, and threw the letter into the fire, watching until the flames consumed it completely. Let sleeping dogs lay, he thought. Jake and Mara deserved their happiness, and the others deserved a new life.

  Their secret would die with him.

  Chapter 55

  With the arrival of Alvin, the whole atmosphere changed. Another pair of hands really sped up the building process.

  Alvin spent countless hours telling them all the news from England. If Deirdre was out of earshot, he talked about what had happened after the kidnapping.

  “Leaving your jacket behind for them to find was brilliant, I tell you. Just brilliant!” Alvin said, flashing a smile at Jake. “Anyone looking at it would know you be deader than a cockroach on the bottom of my boot.”

  “So they all really believed our tale?”

  “Lady Maureen and the others couldn’t have been better storytellers. And Luke, I dinna know what you did to them, but your method of stealing their jewels was the talk o’ the town!”

  Luke laughed heartily, and relayed his actions to a gaping Alvin.

  “You dinna!”

  “Oh yes, he did,” acknowledged Jake. “It was a thing of beauty to hear Lady May choking in her gag!”