A Tale of Two Hearts

by Michelle Griep

  Falsehoods! She ground her teeth so hard, her jaw crackled. Even if she had thought to bring along Effie’s second-chance coin, the anger simmering in her belly would’ve made it impossible to extend Alice such a charity.

  Uncle Barlow leaned sideways and patted Mina’s arm. “Pay her no mind, my dear. I should much rather live in a world of unicorns and fairies.”

  Next to Mina, Percy’s small pencil flew with a life of its own. She opened her mouth to call him out, but then servants descended, removing their plates and setting before each of them a steamed pudding decorated with laurel leaves. Clove and cinnamon wafted up in a heavenly cloud, and she couldn’t help but bend and inhale a great, spicy breath. Ignoring Percy, she took a bite. Sweet apples in a thick sauce had been baked within sponge cake, all soaked in some kind of mulled liqueur and lightened with dollops of cream. Absolute perfection filled her mouth. Martha would never be able to recreate this.

  Uncle Barlow shoved his dish away after only a few bites. For a moment, Mina held her spoon in midair. Was it proper etiquette to continue eating if the host had clearly finished?

  But across from her, Will’s spoon dipped into his pudding, and he took another big bite, paying no mind whatsoever to his uncle’s obviously sated appetite. She’d have to ask him about it later—on the ride home, perhaps—because for now, she determined to finish every last bit of her dessert.

  Percy’s pencil flew from his hand, landing on the carpet next to his chair. He shoved his paper back into his pocket then bent to retrieve the pencil, but in his haste, hadn’t tucked the note in deep enough. The small slip of paper fluttered out and landed near the edge of the chair, teetering on the cushion. Any minute and it would plummet to the floor.

  Without thinking, Mina snatched the thing, curious as to what he’d been documenting; but as the paper came away in her fingers, guilt churned the sweets in her stomach. Was she now a thief as well as a deceiver? What had gotten into her?

  She reached to return the slip, but just then Percy straightened. Any further movement on her part, and she’d be caught red-handed.

  She froze. What was she to do now?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  What lawsuits grow out of the graves of rich men, every day; sowing perjury, hatred, and lies among near kindred, where there should be nothing but love!

  Martin Chuzzlewit

  Will studied Mina across the table—as he had been doing all night when she wasn’t looking. Fine, white teeth worried her lower lip, and an endearing little crinkle weighted her brow. What on earth was she puzzling over?

  He looked closer. In the past year as he’d frequented the Golden Egg, why had he never noticed the sweet, tiny freckles sprinkled over the top of her nose? Or the flaming streaks of copper in her hair? When had she grown into such a beauty?

  “Now that dinner is finished,” Uncle Barlow said while folding his napkin. “I suppose we should be about our business, eh?”

  “Finally,” Alice gruffed out beneath her breath, then in a louder, more syrupy tone, “Dearest Uncle, should you like Mina and me to retire to another room so that you men may confer in private?”

  “No need.” He held up his hand, staving her off. “It is my experience that wives are an integral part in how a household is run, and it is the running of my household that I am most interested in.”

  “Even so, Uncle Barlow, if you don’t mind, I must plead a moment for myself.” Mina pushed back her chair and shot to her feet. “Will you excuse me?”

  Will cocked his head. Why the sudden need to escape?

  “Of course, my dear. The necessary room is the third door on the left.” Uncle stood.

  So did Will.

  But Percy was too busy fumbling with something in his pocket to pay Mina any such respect. Or did the scoundrel feign the preoccupation just to snub her? Oh, how he’d love to reach across the table and yank his cousin from his chair, but he forced his feet to remain still. Schoolboy theatrics probably didn’t fit the type of behaviour Uncle was looking for in an heir. Swallowing his disgust, he lowered to his seat as Mina disappeared out the door.

  Uncle Barlow planted his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers, tapping them together. “I have one simple question for each of you.” His gaze swung to Percy. “I shall ask you first, Percival, being you are the eldest by several months. Should you be named heir, what do you intend to do with the estate once I am gone?”

  A shrill titter squealed out of Alice, like that of a rabbit being stepped upon. “Oh! My husband is brilliant when it comes to finance. Wait until you hear his plans. He’s going to—”

  “I believe I asked my nephew.” Uncle curbed her with a glare from beneath his shaggy brows. “If you don’t mind?”

  Her mouth puckered into a clam ripple. “No, of course not.”

  Will coughed into his hand, stifling a grin. Between Alice and Mina, there was no contest as to where Uncle’s affections lay, and increasingly, his. Bless Mina’s heart. She was a sunbeam to Alice’s heavy, dark cloud.

  Percy straightened in his seat, resettling his glasses just so on the bridge of his nose. After a quick smoothing of any wrinkles on each coat sleeve, he faced Uncle Barlow as if addressing the prime minister.

  “The fact of the matter is that my wife is correct.” Percy tilted his head in a superior manner. Gads! If he lifted his nose any higher, a nosebleed might follow.

  “You see, Uncle Barlow, there are not many men more well-versed in finance than I. That being said, I believe that the future lies in rails. With the innovation of the steam engine, and the largest station in all of Europe recently opened right here in London, it’s obvious that railroad investment is the way to go.”

  Uncle Barlow grunted. “Perhaps.”

  Will folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. Judging by the rise of Percy’s chest, the man was about to launch into one of his unending soliloquies.

  “There is no perhaps about it.” Reaching inside his suit coat, Percy pulled out a sheaf of papers.

  Will gaped. How had the man concealed such a thick wad of documents?

  “I have taken the liberty of running up the numbers. If you’ll just look here.” Shoving aside the dishes, Percy spread the papers onto the table and stabbed one in particular with his index finger. “This graph shows that railroads are soon to be the lifeblood of commerce. According to a recent tabulation comparing canals to roads to rails, the upswing is soon to be steam engines. In fact, out of pocket expenses pale in comparison to…”

  His cousin droned on, but Will was more interested in what his uncle might think of the presentation. Was he wearied with Percy’s statistics or eager to find out more? He slipped a covert glance at the old fellow, but his uncle’s grey eyes neither drooped with boredom nor shone with interest. Only once did Uncle reach for his handkerchief to accommodate a short coughing spell.

  Beyond Uncle Barlow, a shadow appeared on the threshold. Will leaned back farther in his chair for a better look. Mina hovered like a spectre, neither entering nor retreating. She lingered, her eyes wide and beseeching his. In ghostlike fashion, she crooked her finger and beckoned him. What the deuce?

  “—William?”

  He jerked his gaze back to Uncle Barlow, who stared at him in expectation.

  “S–Sorry?” he stammered.

  “I said I’ve gathered enough information from your cousin. It is your turn, my boy, to make clear your position. What are your intentions should you inherit my estate?”

  In the doorway, Mina swept her entire hand toward the corridor, pulling his attention once more back to her. Clearly, she signaled him to join her, but why now? Did she not realize—

  “Well William?”

  He jerked his face back to Uncle. “Nothing,” he answered.

  Alice and Percy gasped in unison.

  “Nothing?” Uncle Barlow repeated.

  Behind his uncle, Mina upped her frantic gesturing.

  Sweet heavens! What was he to do? Whatever Mina had to sa
y was clearly urgent, but this was his chance—perhaps his only one—to persuade Uncle and thwart Percy’s wicked scheme. He straightened his shoulders. Mina would have to wait. “What I mean to say is that I intend to move into your country estate and run things as you always have. Your tenants rely upon the land for their livelihood, and I can’t see putting them out of their homes.” He narrowed his eyes at Percy. “Not even for the sake of investment.”

  Red crept up his cousin’s neck. “If the master prospers, so do the servants.”

  “Yet if the master is ruined, so are the tenants,” he shot back.

  “If one does not risk”—Alice’s shrewish voice cut in—“one does not gain.”

  He frowned at her. “But gains are not always positive. Unwarranted risk often reaps ills such as sorrow, debt, prison, or worse.”

  “Which you know firsthand.” Percy leveled the words at him like a loaded rifle. “But I wonder, Cousin, if you have learned your gambling lessons, or would you even now wile away Uncle’s money at a gaming table without a second thought?”

  Uncle Barlow shifted in his chair, and Will clenched his jaw. Blast his cousin for reminding the old man of his ignoble past.

  Mina yet bobbed in the doorway, but he couldn’t very well join her now and leave Percy to fill Uncle’s head with more reminders of his questionable history. If Uncle Barlow based his decision on the exploits of his younger years, he’d never be named heir. But how could he prove he wasn’t that man anymore and that his pompous cousin didn’t deserve to—Pompous? That may be the key. Were he to humble himself, perhaps Uncle Barlow might extend some grace, for the man did have a merciful side to him.

  Disregarding the sneer twisting Percy’s lips, Will turned to Uncle. “Percy is right. As you well know, I have experienced the degradation caused by my own poor choices. I offer you no excuse whatsoever for my reckless past and am, in fact, shamed by it. Yet I am not the man I once was, thanks to you—and God—for giving me a second chance when I was at my lowest point. I assure you, Uncle, that I have mended my ways. Whether or not you choose to believe such, I leave in your hands, for I trust you to make a sound decision.”

  A smile curved Uncle’s mouth, crinkling his skin well up to the corners of his eyes. “Well said, my boy. Well said.”

  Alice reared back her head, barely disguising her breathed out “Pish!”

  Percy collected his papers, stacked them in a neat pile, then shoved the whole thing toward Uncle. “Facts over sentiment, I always say. Read for yourself, on this top document right here, you will see—”

  “Excuse me. I won’t be but a moment.” Will pushed back his chair and stood before Percy launched into a lecture on the merits of steam engines. With his cousin so diverted, this would be the best time to safely see to Mina.

  He strode out of the dining room, and as soon as he stepped into the corridor, Mina urged him away from the door with a tip of her head. Intrigued, he followed.

  “I must speak with you,” she whispered. “Alone.”

  Something dreadful crept in from the edges of her voice, and he reached for her hand. “Very well. Come along.” He led her down the passage and pulled her into the sitting room.

  “What is it?” He spoke low, her clear desire for secrecy tempering his tone.

  “I think I have your proof.” She held out an unfolded slip of paper.

  Collecting it, he scanned the words.

  Picks at his food.

  Wishes to live with unicorns.

  Believes in fairies.

  Outbursts claiming brimstone beasts.

  He frowned at the gibberish, then met Mina’s gaze. “What is this?”

  “Your cousin Percy has been taking notes all evening. Every time your uncle does something questionable, he writes it down. Oh, Will—” Her voice frayed to a ragged thread. “I think he’s documenting things out of context to incriminate your uncle, preparing even now to have him committed.”

  The truth of her words punched him hard, and a growl rumbled in his throat. What a cur! What a wicked, grasping cur. The confirmation of Percy’s true intent tightened his gut, and the paper shook in his hand. This had to stop, here and now. He wheeled about and strode to the corridor.

  “Will?” Mina’s voice trembled behind him—and he hated the fear he’d caused by his abrupt departure. But it couldn’t be helped. He never should have dragged her into this.

  “What are you going to do?”

  He upped his pace, not daring to give her an answer. What he’d like to do would land him behind bars.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  If our affections be tried, our affections are our consolation and comfort; and memory, however sad, is the best and purest link between this world and a better.

  Nicholas Nickleby

  Mina sped after Will. She’d never seen him take such a warrior stance—and a shiver slid across her shoulders. She’d hate to be on the receiving end of the wrath she’d witnessed hardening his jawline.

  Will stalked into the dining room and slammed the note down in front of Uncle Barlow, the movement knocking loose a pile of papers she’d not seen before she’d excused herself from the room.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Percy scrambled to collect the fluttering pages.

  “There is one paper my cousin neglected to show you, Uncle.” William jammed his finger at the note. “Read it.”

  “What are you going on about—” Alice’s words crashed to a halt as her gaze landed on the scribbled writing in front of Uncle Barlow. She reached to snatch the incriminating paper away, but Will’s uncle beat her to it.

  Uncle Barlow’s lips moved as he read over the words, then he frowned up at Will. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “The meaning, sir, is that my cousins intend to have you committed to an asylum.”

  Mina held her breath. The sudden silence in the dining room was a living thing. A breathing monster. The kind that writhed and nipped. She huddled closer to Will. Were this a novel, she’d skip to the next chapter to see how things turned out.

  Percy shoved his glasses tight against the bridge of his nose, as if battening down the hatches before a great storm. Then he threw back his shoulders and faced Uncle Barlow. “I assure you, Uncle, whatever doubts my cousin is trying to implant in your head can be nothing but a scheme to garner himself the inheritance.”

  Uncle Barlow grunted. “Did you write this note, Percival?”

  “I did.”

  Mina blinked. How stunning. He admitted to the offense without hesitation?

  But even more stunning, Percy slid his narrowed gaze to her. Lamplight flashed off his spectacles like lightning bolts. “The real criminal here is William’s wife, for she stole the paper from my pocket.”

  “Mina?” Uncle Barlow turned in his seat, the questions in his gaze driving her back a step. “Did you pick Percy’s pocket?”

  “I—I…no!” She gasped. How had things gotten so turned around? “I took nothing from his pocket. The paper fell out and was about to plummet to the floor, when I simply caught the thing. I thought to give it back, but I—I—”

  “There is no need to defend yourself for retrieving a fallen paper, Mina.” Will reached out defiantly and entwined his fingers with hers. “The only crime here is Percy’s clear indictment of you, Uncle.”

  “Indictment? Flit!” Percy swatted his hand in the air as if slapping away an annoying black fly. “Such skulduggery can only be imagined in the mind of a deviant. I was merely keeping notes of this momentous evening for posterity’s sake.”

  A snort ripped out of Will. “You seriously expect us to believe that?”

  “I should think my word is of more value than that of some law clerk wastrel and his no-account bride. Her ill breeding was apparent even before she resorted to thievery. She suits you though. Far better than Elizabeth ever did. Two unscrupulous peas in a pod, I’d say.”

  “Enough!” Uncle Barlow roared and all eyes swung his way. He stood and slapped both palms o
n the table. “I can see my decision will require more effort than I first anticipated, as you’ve all given me quite a lot to think about. In light of such, we shall reconvene at my country estate over Christmas. Arrive the week before. Until then, I bid you good night.”

  Uncle Barlow strode from the room, leaving them agape with the sudden departure. So many questions tumbled about in Mina’s mind, that she was glad for Will’s strong hold of her hand, grounding her. Of course she couldn’t possibly go to Uncle Barlow’s country estate. How would Will explain that? And who was this Elizabeth that kept getting mentioned?

  Percy jumped to his feet, his chair teetering on two legs. He stalked toward Will and speared his chest with a pudgy finger. “This isn’t finished, Cousin.” He emphasized each word with a jab.

  “No, it is not.” Will spun, his grip on her hand pulling her with him. “Come along, Mina.”

  Her feet double-timed to keep up with his long stride, though she couldn’t blame him. She wished to leave Percy and Alice behind every bit as much as he. In the foyer, a servant waited with their wraps, and Will helped her into her coat before he donned his. By the time Alice’s and Percy’s footsteps clipped onto the marble floor, Will led her out the front door.

  At the bottom of the stairs, he turned to her. “Mind if we walk a bit before I hail a cab?”

  She glanced back at the townhouse. No sign of his cousins yet, but they were sure to appear soon. “Well, I don’t fancy waiting here.”

  He didn’t say anything, but the approval in his eyes warmed her in the brisk evening air. They didn’t stroll far before a hansom rolled along and Will flagged it down. He opened the door for her and helped her in, then hopped up himself, calling out to the jarvey, “The Golden Egg Inn on Chicory Lane.”

  She settled her skirts on the seat as the carriage lurched into motion, springs squeaking and bouncier than normal.