by Lynda Hurst
At his stricken look, she already knew the answer: when he had taken possession of her family home eight years ago. Faith waved away the old memories with a flick of her hand and said, “Oh! That hardly matters now. At least we still have them, and it should be just a simple task to go through the last months of my father’s transactions. Margaret, if you are still up to the task, that is, we can see if any of the art pieces my father sold bears the description of what you’ve been looking for.”
Grateful to her sister-in-law for restoring her spark of hope, Margaret beamed at her. “Yes, I think we can do that together, but not right now. I had all of you come here on a whim, and now the hour grows late. Thank you for indulging me in my fanatical obsession with all of this,” Margaret said, as she swept an arm around the room, indicating the ruined wall and bookcase and all of the displaced books.
Heartened to see Margaret restored to a better humor, Jackson stepped forward and offered, “Since this business started, I believe all of us have had a hand in hunting down the Revelstoke treasure. Only you alone possess the drive and the absolutely brilliant mind to fully search out leads and expose what history has hidden from us over the centuries. I don’t know anyone else who could have done better.”
Margaret blushed. To her ears, it sounded like Jackson was actually proud of her. Behind him, the rest of the company echoed his sentiments with murmurs of agreement.
Mary supplied, “Without the work you’ve put into researching what the Artemis clue meant, we would never have gotten this far. And now we have another possible lead that could lead us to the treasure itself.”
Margaret basked in their praise, knowing it was for her intelligence and quick thinking that they were complimenting for once. Jackson’s words were high praise indeed, when there was once a time in the past she had sought his approval for more insipid things. Now, it felt heavenly to have him look at her with a gleam of admiration in his eyes for no other reason than that she had impressed him regarding the mystery of the Artemis clue.
As the voice of authority in the room, Devlin proclaimed, “It is later than I expected, and we should all head home to our respective beds for a good night’s rest. The accounting books can wait until then.” Ushering everyone out of the house and placing everyone in their respective carriages, Devlin made short work of organizing everyone trip home.
Before Margaret could climb into the Prestonridge carriage, Jackson had caught her arm for a quick word. “If it’s all the same, I would like to help with going through those account books with you. Faith may have a faulty memory for the past, but I like to think I can help with possibly recalling what it was her father had sold off to make a quick coin.”
Smiling at his offer, Margaret replied, “Of course, you can.” In truth, Margaret glowed inwardly at the prospect of Jackson voluntarily helping in their efforts. “You may call on us tomorrow after breakfast.”
Inclining his head, Jackson said, “Until then. Good night, Margaret.”
“Good night, Jackson.”
9
London—One Week Later
With Parliament in session and all of the lords in town from their country homes, the London season was in full swing. Both the de Chamblays and the Ellesmeres were present as both Jackson and Devlin had to consider their obligations within the House of Lords.
A week ago, the excitement of the Revelstoke account books had been passed over for the turmoil caused by the discovery of another body found that morning. Nobley had arrived with the dire news and had urged Devlin to use his influence at the House of Lords to petition for His Majesty’s troops to be stationed in Donnesbury for the protection of its residents. With the account books forgotten, the ladies of Prestonridge Manor were outraged at the callous treatment of one of their own sex and backed Nobley’s request for Devlin to do something about it.
Hence, their presence in London was a week earlier than planned, but Devlin had needed the chance to confer with other lords about the precedent of utilizing His Majesty’s troops. Visits with his solicitor were also learning opportunities for Devlin since he could study the legalities such a petition would entail. In short, Devlin was learning everything he could to make his petition a strong one so that the good people of Donnesbury need not live in fear of the next attack on their women.
Margaret, however, had made plans prior to their arrival for the season, and most all of them were directly involved with the Artemis clue. She had made an appointment to meet with Abraham after he had mentioned a new finding presently in the possession of the Royal Museum.
While Devlin was busy with his ducal duties and Faith was occupied with Grayson and her other social obligations, Margaret was given license to do as she pleased while in London regarding her research only. Roaming the city on her own was still frowned upon, so Devlin insisted she travel to her appointments with an escort in tow.
For today, Jackson was present as an appropriate escort, accompanied by her maid, Janet, as a proper chaperone. Together, the three of them were patiently awaiting the arrival of Abraham Mensforth at London’s Royal Museum.
They had arrived early, so there was time for them to stroll about from exhibit to exhibit, observing the latest findings by the current curator. Janet trailed behind some distance, and it was far enough for them to have a conversation safe from her ears, but close enough to watch for any impropriety between them. In a place such as this, Janet assumed they were discussing scholarly matters dealing with the Artemis clue.
Poor Janet’s assumption proved false as the topic of discussion between the two was strictly on a social bent. In fact, Jackson had brought up the topic of Faith’s planned country house party himself, surprising Margaret that they were even discussing anything involving a social event at all. Jackson himself couldn’t be more surprised that he brought it up, but he was currently driven by the need to discover if Margaret’s affections were indeed leaning towards Lord Jeffrey Collingwood.
Having called on his intended a few days earlier, he discovered that there was no spark, no tension as there was when he was near this new version of Margaret. Lady Celia, for all her merits, could not provoke a single emotion even if she wrung one out of him. Margaret, on the other hand, was the subject of his thoughts lately, where he thought about all that she was now, causing him to ruminate over where those thoughts would eventually lead him.
He supposed he should determine whether or not she had already accepted Collingwood before he made a fool of himself. He began, “It’s been some time since Faith has hosted a large house party. I understand from Mary that she had to cut her list down to thirty people, and I do believe that Collingwood is on the list.”
Margaret noted he said that last bit in the form of a statement that sounded rather like a question. Regardless, she answered him as if he did ask. “Yes, Jeffrey is invited. Devlin and Faith were both eager to meet him.”
“I see. I take it you’re thinking of accepting him, then?” Jackson asked.
Blushing, Margaret couldn’t answer him straight away, as she herself didn’t know the answer to his question. “Actually, I’m still undecided,” she said, very forthright in her response, meeting his gaze head-on. “It was Faith and Mary’s idea to host the country party as a way of helping along my decision in that sphere.”
Jackson already knew this through his accidental eavesdropping that same day, but he thought it best to hear it straight from her and was rewarded with a straight answer for his frankness. Her answer, however, didn’t satisfy his curiosity about the proximity of her relationship with Jeffrey, so he asked, “What’s there to decide? He sounds a prime catch from what I’ve heard.”
“So you do know about him?” At his nod, she went on, “As does everyone else, on the surface, at least. Thus far, he’s been kind and gentle, but I’m still unsure if that’s enough upon which to build a marriage.”
Jackson replied, “But there are many ton marriages based on those two attributes alone. Granted, there are a few love
matches scattered here and there such as the one Faith and Devlin so obviously have, but not everyone in our set can be so lucky. Aside from them, there are many who make a good go of the institution to endorse it all together.”
He knew he was rambling at this point, but he really did try to make marriage as attractive a convention as those in happy marriages have claimed. His own parents were proof that a marriage can be happy, but they were also still in love with each other after all of these years.
As for why he was defending the marriage tradition, he couldn’t rightly say, but he knew that he would hate to see Margaret disenchanted by it just because of a few uncertainties she harbored.
Margaret sighed. “Well, if you’re trying to aid me in my decision, you’ve completely lost the mark. I haven’t answered Jeffrey’s proposal simply because I’m not yet ready.”
Curious, just for the sake of delving into the way her mind worked, he asked, “What would it take for you to be ready for marriage?”
“That’s just it; I don’t rightly know what it would take. All I know is that I would love to be a wife to someone who appreciates me to the point of worshipfulness. To someone who would adore me despite my faults and my current obsession with history relating to that blasted clue. And it would have to be someone to whom I would readily give everything in me there is to give,” she confessed.
Everything Margaret said tugged at his heart, knowing she spoke truthfully. She hadn’t spoken of expectations of love or even of affection, but her words were confirmation of the passion she kept hidden inside. Heaven help Collingwood if he didn’t fulfill Margaret’s expectations; he wouldn’t be able to bear seeing Margaret unhappy due to a failing on Collingwood’s part.
“Hm,” he murmured. “Something tells me you know what you want out of a marriage, but you’re unsure of whether or not Collingwood can deliver. Is that how you feel?”
Margaret admitted, “More or less. Having you put it that way makes my doubts about him seem trivial. I know he would do anything to make me happy, only I know that love won’t be the motivation for him to do so.”
Earnest now, he asked, “And is love important to you?” His gaze held hers steady once he uttered his question, seeking out what he believed was the heart of the matter that was troubling her.
Drawing a deep breath, she recalled the harsh times her own love for Jackson was spurned in the past. She discovered a consuming love such as the one she held onto for so long hurt too much when it was not reciprocated, and only through sheer force of will did she let go of it so she could try to love another. However, she knew that she didn’t love Jeffrey, but hoped that one day love would grow between them over time.
Instead, she replied, “It shouldn’t be, but I’m determined to make a good wife for Jeffrey so that I am a credit to his good name and standing.”
Frowning at her answer, Jackson understood too well why she wasn’t giving love a chance. He realized he was responsible for her disillusionment when it came to love, and he really had no business giving her advice on the subject. But like a moth to a flame, he couldn’t resist the pull she had on his sympathies nor could he resist almost goading her into explaining away her feelings regarding Collingwood.
Why he cared, he couldn’t begin to guess, but if he had to look deeper at his motives, he would only admit to himself that he was merely curious about Margaret’s own rationale for choosing a man such as Collingwood.
Was it the man’s wealth, his looks, or his position in society that compelled her to consider him? Maybe once in the past, he wouldn’t have put that brand of shallowness past her. But now, having been forced into her company over the past two years due to both of their associations with Faith, he had to reconsider his opinion of the woman. In the past, he had viewed her as an insipid, shallow creature who seemed to care only for her comfort over that of others; now, he reversed his stance upon discovering she was an interesting, colorful woman full of vibrancy and life who cared deeply for those she loved.
If he cared to be brutally honest with himself, he couldn’t bear the thought that Margaret would settle for someone like Jeffrey when she clearly deserved someone who fully appreciated her. He supposed the country party Faith was planning would serve one purpose: to show Margaret how her own family would receive the man on their own home territory. Knowing how fiercely she loved those in her inner circle, she would value their opinions of the man to help her in her final decision.
Before he could utter a reply, Margaret cleared her throat to say with bravado, “Enough about me. What about you? I understand from Faith that you asked her to invite Lady Celia Harcourt to our house party. I take it you intend to ask for her hand in marriage?”
It took tremendous effort to keep her voice level and devoid of any emotion except that of cheery gladness for him. But inside, her heart felt like it was being squeezed within a vise at the prospect of Jackson loving and living with another. It seemed she was not completely over him as she had hoped, with her own impending engagement looming above her; it simply wouldn’t do to enter a binding covenant with one man only to be pining after another.
With the telltale wobble of her smile that immediately gave way to a look so broken and sad, he felt badly for her and doubly so. He knew she had fancied him over the years, but he had brushed it off as just an infatuation. That open, unguarded emotion she had just shown him told him it was possible those feelings had been genuine, and his heart leaped at the thought.
Taken aback a little by her question, he quickly recovered and said, “You are correct in that I’ve asked Faith to invite her and her parents. As for asking for her hand in marriage, I am still undecided. Like you, I am hoping that the party will help my decision along to a final conclusion.”
Heaving a weary sigh, he admitted, “However, I don’t have the luxury of wasting time in choosing a wife. It’s my father’s wish to see me safely married, ensuring our family’s future is secure for the next generation. If you don’t already know, if Faith hadn’t told you, my father’s unwell and has been for some time.”
Of course, Margaret knew but hadn’t realized the current Earl of Ellesmere was the reason for Jackson’s sudden interest in marriage. “I’m so sorry,” she supplied lamely. “I wish--“
But Margaret hadn’t a chance to finish her sentence as Mensforth suddenly stepped into view before them. Jackson smiled apologetically at her, but she knew that the interruption couldn’t have been helped. The look he shot her briefly told her he was greatly interested in hearing what she was about to say, and Jackson promised himself that he would bring up the tail-end of their conversation at a later time.
For now, he observed Abraham smiling down at Margaret, and was disgruntled at seeing a handsome gentleman not yet of advanced age centering all of his attention on her. In fact, he couldn’t help the glower he knew he must have sported at witnessing the other man holding her hand overlong in greeting.
For all that the man was a scholar and thus, should be observant due to the nature of his profession, he casually ignored Jackson until Margaret made a turn of her head to try to edge in an introduction of the two men.
Finally, he turned to Jackson and offered his hand, “Lord Ellesmere, I presume? Lady Margaret here has told me how her family are supportive of her studies in history, and I imagine you are also of that number?”
Jackson remembered that this situation called for his manners to be on display despite the animosity building within him. He took the man’s proffered hand to shake it firmly and nodded in answer to Mensforth’s questions.
Margaret confirmed, “Yes. Jackson is a close family friend and is also just as intrigued by the subject of Artemis as much I am. Jackson, may I introduce to you Mr. Abraham Mensforth? He is one of the leading experts in Ancient Greek antiquities in the country.”
Luckily, Jackson’s solid upbringing had him automatically employing his good manners instead of giving in to his desire to hide Margaret away from this man. He said pleasantly, “
It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I hear you hail from Cambridge and that your department has some of the finest minds seeking out more discoveries relating to Greco-Roman antiquities.”
“Ah, you do us credit by flattering us so,” Mensforth said humbly. “But please, if you would follow me, there is something interesting I would like the both of you to see.”
Margaret flashed Jackson a quick smile before following after Mensforth, and Jackson had to grin at the barely-tethered excitement he found brightly coloring her features. Knowing the strength of her passion for objects and facts from ages long past, he hoped that in the future she would always have reason to smile the way she did just now. Her forlorn look from earlier hadn’t sat well with him and would much rather have her nose figuratively buried in dusty tomes and objects just so he wouldn’t have to witness such a look again.
10
Mensforth proceeded to lead them deeper into the museum proper, towards a section not made available to the public. Margaret had been privileged in the past to visit this more private environment several times and was already familiar with the curator’s offices and private workspace. As a personal favor just for that day, the curator, being a close friend of Mensforth’s, had given them permission for a private viewing of the museum’s most recent additions.
