A Tale of Two Hearts

by Michelle Griep

  Will’s gut churned, and a sour taste filled his mouth. Those were exactly the words he’d hoped to hear, the sole reason for asking Mina to attend this tea. But now that the victory was his, he didn’t want it. Not like this.

  Averting his gaze, he hung his head. “Thank you, sir.”

  Alice blew out a snort. “Pish!”

  Uncle Barlow held up a hand, cutting her off. “As you all know, I am soon to announce an heir for my estate, and I’ve given much thought to it these past months. Therefore, I should like to name—”

  Will looked up. Alice and Percy leaned so far toward Uncle, their chairs might go under at any moment. Even Mina quieted.

  “—a date two weeks hence,” Uncle continued. “Yes, in exactly a fortnight, I think. We shall meet over dinner the Thursday following next at my townhouse. Eight o’clock. Is this agreeable?”

  “Yes.” Will’s voice chimed in unison with his cousins’, offset by Mina’s, “No.”

  Will draped his arm around Mina’s shoulder, ignoring the tension his touch created. “Mina is right. We should first check our calendar. Yes, my sweet?” He gave her a little squeeze.

  And a sharp kick jabbed him in the leg. The little firebrand. He drew back his hand.

  “Well, well, William. I must say I am impressed with such forethought.” Uncle Barlow stroked his jaw. “You will let me know at your earliest convenience, will you not?”

  “Of course,” he said before Mina could speak.

  Ignoring the sneers on his cousins’ faces, he blew out a long breath. That crisis had been averted, but he’d soon face an even bigger one—what to do about the dinner in two weeks.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Accidents will occur in the best regulated families.

  David Copperfield

  Dinner. Two weeks. In a fine London townhouse.

  Uncle Barlow’s invitation sank to Mina’s stomach like one too many biscuits. As much as she was growing to like the man, there was no way she could attend. All the bright beauty of taking tea at Purcell’s faded as she glanced at Will. How she hated to disappoint him, but stealing away for an hour in the afternoon was altogether different from being gone an entire evening for hours on end. And now that she’d met his dear uncle, the thought of continuing their charade pricked her conscience.

  The touch of Uncle Barlow’s hand atop hers pulled her gaze back to the old fellow, and her heart twisted at the affection shining in his grey eyes. Will’s uncle reminded her far too much of her grandfather, God rest his soul. Grandfather had been the only man to understand her love affair with literature…until now.

  “It has been a delight to meet you, my dear. I look forward to seeing you again.” Uncle Barlow leaned closer, speaking for her alone. “When ‘all the knives and forks were working away at a rate that was quite alarming; very few words were spoken; and everybody seemed to eat his utmost in self-defense, as if a famine were expected to set in before breakfast.’” He reared back in his seat and challenged her with a tip of his chin. “Can you name that one?”

  She couldn’t stop the smile that stretched her lips. “Martin Chuzzlewit.”

  Uncle Barlow’s shoulders shook with a great chuckle. “Ahh, but you do a heart good.” Then he pressed his hands on the tabletop and stood. “And now, I bid you all adieu.”

  Their chairs scraped back as one. “Good day, Uncle Barlow,” she said along with Will.

  But Percy and Alice immediately swarmed the man, hooking their arms through his. “We shall be glad to escort you to the door.”

  “No need.” He shrugged them off. “I may have a cough, but I am not feeble.”

  Collecting his cane, he threaded his way through the tables and disappeared out the door.

  Will offered Mina his arm, then squared off with Percy. “Until next time, Cousin.”

  Percy scowled. “Indeed.”

  As she and Will crossed to the door, Mina memorized every last inch of the tearoom, for she’d revisit it in daydreams to come. In the foyer, Will helped her into her coat, and when they stepped outside, she left Purcell’s behind feeling a curious mix of lightness and heaviness. That she’d have to tell Will she couldn’t attend the dinner weighed her down. So did the thought of the disapproval in Uncle Barlow’s eyes when he discovered the truth.

  But regardless, as she stood next to Will while he hailed a cab, she couldn’t stop from curving her lips upward. It had been lovely to be a lady for an afternoon, so much so that if it weren’t improper, she would have thrown up her arms and twirled…but wait a minute. Her gaze shot to her arm—which lacked an overly stuffed reticule.

  “Oh!” She laid her fingers on Will’s coat sleeve. “I’m afraid I left my bag back at the table.”

  “Not to worry. I’ll retrieve it in a trice—”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I’ll dash off. You hail a cab. If I stay any later, Father will get suspicious.”

  Will’s brow crumpled, but at last he consented. “Very well.”

  Turning on her heel, she darted back into Purcell’s and stopped at the concierge stand. “I’m sorry, but I believe I left my bag at the table.”

  “It may have been cleared by now,” the fellow answered. “Yet you are free to take a look.”

  Murmuring a thank-you, she hurried into the tearoom, trying not to look conspicuous as she rushed to the table in the rear corner. But the dishes had been removed. A new cloth awaited the setting of a fresh tea set, and no black knit bag sat beneath the chair where she’d laid it.

  She pursed her lips. Oh, bother. Though the small pouch contained only her veil and no money, still, it was a good veil. Her only one. And she’d be sorry to lose it.

  Retracing her steps, she worked her way to the side of the large chamber, where she’d have a straight shot back to the foyer. She’d barely made it when Percy and Alice appeared from the necessary rooms. Drat! Facing them with Will at her side had been hard enough. Alone she was no match. In two clipped steps, she flattened behind a large potted plant, using the greenery for cover.

  As Will’s cousins drew close, Alice’s voice traveled a layer above the din of tea chatter. “There is no time to waste, especially if your uncle is to name the heir in two weeks. You must line up an appointment with the doctor and the administrator.”

  “Yes, of course.” Percy grumbled. “Once the paperwork is signed, I’ll make sure Uncle goes the way of Aunt Prudence. Though William will no doubt put up a fuss once he finds out.”

  “That is a problem…but what if he doesn’t hear of it? What if we simply lead him to believe your uncle is retiring to his country estate? William hasn’t visited there in years. I don’t see why he should start now.”

  “He might, now that he’s got a wife.”

  Their voices started to fade, and Mina wavered. It was wicked to eavesdrop, but judging by what she’d already heard, Will’s cousins meant some kind of harm to Uncle Barlow—harm that perhaps she could prevent. Edging away from the plant, she angled her ear to catch the last drift of their conversation as they moved toward the foyer.

  Alice snorted. “Then we’ll tell your cousin that Uncle isn’t feeling up to company. Something about his cough or other such tale. Besides, once your uncle is committed to an asylum, he won’t last long. We’ll be the owners of the estate, and Will and his bride can go to kingdom come.”

  “You are delightfully devious, my dear.”

  Alice’s purr disappeared with her out the door, leaving Mina behind with a pounding heart and a righteous anger. Will’s cousins didn’t just want Uncle Barlow’s money. They wanted to destroy him.

  And in the worst possible way.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The plain rule is to do nothing in the dark, to be a party to nothing underhanded or mysterious, and never to put his foot where he cannot see the ground.

  Bleak House

  Sneaking a covert look into the foyer to make sure Will’s cousins were gone—and finding it empty—Mina dashed out of the tearoom.


  “Miss!” The porter’s voice stopped her retreat.

  She stared at the reticule sitting on his upturned palm, but all she could think of were Will’s horrible cousins and their threat to Uncle Barlow. Would they truly shut the old fellow away? And if they did, how long could he possibly last?

  “Is this your bag, madam?”

  The man’s question rattled her from her dark thoughts, and she reached for the black pouch. “It is, and I thank you.”

  Without another word, she whirled and dashed out to where Will waited at the side of a cab.

  He offered his hand to help her step up, then looked closer at her face. “Are you all right? You look as if you’ve…hold on. Did you have to square off with Percy and Alice?” He shook his head. “I should’ve gone to retrieve your bag. Forgive me?”

  She frowned. If only it were something so trivial. “There is nothing to forgive,” she murmured.

  Clutching his hand, she desperately tried to figure out how to tell Will all she’d overheard. She settled her skirts on the cab’s seat, trying not to inhale overmuch. It was going to be a long ride home in a hackney that reeked of sardines and cigar smoke. As Will climbed in and shut the door, not even his pleasant bergamot scent could beat back the rank odor—or stop the sickening twist of her heart. Poor Uncle Barlow.

  As soon as the cab rolled onward, she turned to Will.

  But his words came out first. “Thank you, Mina, for everything. I daresay my uncle is completely smitten with you.”

  A small smile trembled across her lips, for the feeling had been completely mutual. Not only had the old fellow quoted from some of her favorite books, but he also kept company with authors she longed to meet. “Your Uncle Barlow is a dear old man. I see where you get your good humour. But there’s something I must tell you.”

  He humphed. “Would that Percy might have gotten a smidgen of Uncle’s humour as well, hmm?”

  She bit her lip, stopping the agreement from flying from her lips. Will’s friend Mr. Fitzroy couldn’t have been more right when he’d deemed the fellow a pompous donkey.

  “Come on.” Will nudged her with his elbow. “Admit it. My cousin is an odious beast.”

  “Your words, not mine.”

  “Yet you thought so, did you not?”

  “Well…I do not normally like to speak ill of people, but there is something—”

  “Something?” His brows rose. “That’s putting it mildly. There’s far more than something wrong with Percy. Since we were children, he’s done nothing but browbeat me or anyone else who crosses his path. A learned trait, I suppose, from his father. But you, Mina,” his voice softened. “You were a terribly good sport about the whole thing. Still, I am thankful it’s over. I’ll never expose you to Percy or Alice again.”

  “But what about the dinner?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll have a few days to figure it out. At the very least, I could say you simply weren’t feeling up to attending, which wouldn’t be a huge stretch, for Lord knows even I never feel up to rubbing elbows with Percy.”

  “But I—”

  “No buts about it. I cannot ask you to do more. You’ve been a good friend.”

  Friend? Oh, how she wished to be so much more. The cab clattered along and her darker thoughts returned, rattling her as much as the jarring ride. Would her lack of appearance at that dinner cause Uncle Barlow to name Percy his heir? And if Percy were named…she shuddered as his words surfaced in her mind.

  “Once the paperwork is signed, I’ll make sure Uncle goes the way of Aunt Prudence.”

  “Will.” She shifted on the seat and faced him. “Tell me what happened to your aunt Prudence.”

  His eyes narrowed. “How on earth do you know her name? Did Uncle mention something about her?”

  “No. I overheard Percy and Alice speaking of her when I went back to find my reticule.”

  “Did you?” A glower shadowed his face, and suddenly the cheerful man she adored vanished. “What did they say?”

  Plagued by a sudden bout of nerves, she licked her lips. Did he think ill of her for eavesdropping, or had the mention of his cousins darkened his brow?

  “Alice said something about paperwork being signed and your uncle going the way of Aunt Prudence. I pray I am wrong on my assumptions, but I must know. What happened to your aunt?”

  Lightning flashed in Will’s eyes, and she edged back—which was a trifling distance in a cab of this size.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “My aunt Prudence,” he gritted out, “was committed to an asylum. At the time, Uncle Barlow acted on advice from her physician. Yet she was horribly mistreated in the name of medical science, and by the time he finished the paperwork to have her released, well…it was too late.”

  Breathe. Just breathe. But no good. Though Mina tried to ignore them, ghosts from the past rose up and squeezed the air from her lungs. She flung out her hand to grip the side of the cab.

  “Mina? Are you ill?”

  She trained her gaze on him, slowly bringing him into focus until she could shake the memory of voices screeching to her from across the years. “You cannot allow anyone to put your uncle into an asylum,” she said finally. “You must go to him and reveal what your cousins are plotting.”

  He assessed her in silence for a long moment, his jaw grinding the whole while. “I don’t think Uncle Barlow will believe me. My reputation is not pretty in his eyes. He’ll see the attempt as nothing but a scheme to put Percy out of the running.”

  She jerked sideways to face him, dropping her reticule and spilling her veil onto the cab’s floor. How was she to make Will realize how important it was for him to take a stand against such an atrocity? “You must try! Your uncle’s life may depend upon it.”

  Will stared at her, and only God knew what went on behind those blue eyes of his, now turned to ice. Had she said too much? Been too forceful? Crossed some sort of line she ought not have?

  He bent and retrieved her belongings, taking time to brush off a bit of mud from the veil before handing it back. “Trust me, Mina.” His voice was low and weighted with a burden she couldn’t begin to comprehend. “I understand the severity of the situation. My cousins would only deny it should I bring the charge against them. Scraps of overheard whispers are insufficient evidence in a court of law.”

  She sank back against the seat, clutching her bag. He was right of course, but that was no comfort. Slowly, she smoothed out the wrinkles in her veil, then forced a steadiness to her voice that she didn’t feel. “Do you not believe me?”

  “Nothing of the sort. I know better than most the deviousness of Percy’s character. Blast it!” Lifting his hat, he raked his fingers through his hair. “I need proof, Mina. If I hope to convince Uncle Barlow of Percy’s intent, I’ll need something more concrete than mere hearsay.”

  “But if your cousins succeed and put your uncle into an asylum, he won’t survive. The cures used in the name of medicine are enough to kill a healthy person. You heard your uncle’s cough. Shutting him away in a drafty institution would be the end of him.”

  Will’s hands curled into fists on his thighs, so unlike his amiable self. “I know,” he breathed out.

  She heaved a sigh herself. Of course he’d need something more valid than what she’d overheard. But how else could his cousins be stopped?

  The cab slowed, and she pressed her hand to the door, as though by so doing, she could delay her decision. She met Will’s gaze, afraid to hope—yet more afraid not to. “Do you think…is there a chance your Uncle Barlow will name you heir at his dinner?”

  Will scrubbed his hand over his face. “As much as I’d like to say yes, the truth is I do not know.”

  “Are there any other options if Percy is your uncle’s choice? You are a law clerk. Are there not statutes in place to prevent such a heinous act?”

  “None.” His mouth twisted into a rueful smile. “I’m afraid the legal system is in need of an overhaul in more than one wa
y.”

  Why did everything seem to be against that dear old man? She shoved open the door, debating what to do all the while, then faced Will. Icy rain pelted in from outside, and she shivered, though less from the chill than from her decision. “Well then, we will just have to make sure your uncle chooses you over Percy at that dinner.”

  Will’s jaw dropped, and for a moment no words came out. “You…you want to go through with this?”

  She lifted the veil and covered her face, then clutched her reticule with a death grip.

  “We must do everything we can to keep your uncle from being committed to an asylum. No one should ever have to suffer what my mother did.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  These sequestered nooks are the public offices of the legal profession, where writs are issued, judgments signed, declarations filed, and numerous other ingenious machines put in motion for the torture and torment of His Majesty’s liege subjects.

  The Pickwick Papers

  Will stared at the stack of documents in his hands, but he didn’t see them. All he could focus on was the haunted glaze in Mina’s eyes as she’d run out of the cab yesterday. A look so ripe with heartbreak and sorrow, he’d wanted to pull her into his arms and protect her from it—and that was a feeling so new and foreign he still didn’t know what to do with it. Thunderation! He never should have allowed Uncle Barlow to believe he was married. What a tangled web he’d woven.

  Giving himself a mental shake, he reached for the bell on his desk and rang it. No sense dwelling on what couldn’t be made right—not yet, anyway. As he waited for a runner to leave the cluster of other errand boys near the door, he determined to go to the Golden Egg as soon as the workday was over and put a smile back onto Mina’s face. It was the least he could do for having troubled her with his family affairs.

  Satisfied with his plan of action, he tucked the papers into a courier bag and inhaled his first relaxed breath of the morning. The Temple Court clerks’ room hummed with quiet activity. Papers shuffled. Pen nibs scritch-scratched like little feet running across so many pages, and the hushed whispers of conferring clerks circled the room, as dry and rustling as leaves caught up in an eddy.