Bear No Malice

by Clarissa Harwood

  “You seem to have an objection,” Miranda said to Tom. “What is it?”

  His discomfort increased. Nevertheless, he answered, “I don’t think unmarried women from good families ought to associate with penitentiary inmates.”

  “Do you think the innocent creatures will be corrupted?” There was an unwonted note of sarcasm in Miranda’s voice.

  Tom resented this. “Perhaps. Surely you can admit it’s a possibility.”

  “Unmarried women ought to be protected from the realities of life. Is that what you think?”

  “Some realities, yes. Why should you know all the ugly details of these women’s lives? What good would it do?”

  “Perhaps it would act as a cautionary tale, to prevent the innocent from wandering blindly into sin.”

  “Miranda,” Simon finally said, a note of warning in his voice. His hand remained on her shoulder.

  She ignored him and said, “You men are all the same. You love to label women and keep them in your tidy little categories. Penitentiary inmates, even prostitutes, are still women.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Tom retorted. It troubled him to hear that word on Miranda’s lips: fallen women, even bad women would have been preferable to the stark reality of prostitute.

  “Charity work is all very well,” he continued, “but it doesn’t give you a true understanding of where these women have come from or how difficult it is to train them for respectable employment. My work last year involved a comprehensive study of all the penitentiaries in London. I daresay I know more about the system and its inmates than you do.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt you know more about the system,” she replied tartly. She rose in one quick movement and returned to Jack at the other end of the room.

  Tom stared after her, baffled. She usually took his views in stride, even if she didn’t agree with them.

  “Don’t mind Miranda,” Simon said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “She feels strongly about penitentiary inmates.”

  Tom was unconvinced. If Miranda cared so much about these women, why had she never spoken of them before?

  “Why not have Jack and Ann meet here?” Simon suggested. “Gwen won’t be back for a few more days, so only Miranda and I will be here. We can give Jack and Ann some time alone, but we’ll be close by if they need us.”

  “Are you certain?” Tom asked. “That would work very well, I think, as long as you don’t mind the inconvenience.”

  “No inconvenience at all. I’m happy to offer the house for such a purpose. The little chap deserves a happy reunion with his sister.”

  “Thank you, Simon. I appreciate it.”

  Tom had no chance to speak to Miranda again. She remained with Jack until it was time for Tom and Jack to leave, and she said goodbye to Tom with considerably less warmth than she did to Jack. Tom felt she had willfully misunderstood him, and as he and Jack walked home, he tried to forget the exchange, comforting himself with the notion that even his admired Miranda was still a woman, with a woman’s unpredictable emotions. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said.

  18

  “You girls always seem to forget that clergymen are only men after all.”

  “Their conduct is likely to be better than that of other men, I think.”

  “I deny it utterly.”

  —Anthony Trollope, The Last Chronicle of Barset

  Ann Goode was due to arrive any minute, and Miranda was too restless to keep her mind on her book. After she had jumped up from her chair three times—once to rearrange the ornaments on the mantelpiece, the second time to turn two chairs to face each other, the third to return them to their original position—Simon looked up from his newspaper in consternation.

  “Mouse, what’s the matter?”

  “Oh, nothing. It’s just . . . well . . . I’m a little anxious about the reunion between Ann and Jack.” She returned to the chair across from Simon’s, biting her lip.

  “I’m sure it will be fine. What’s there to worry about?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps one or both of them will be disappointed by how much the other has changed—or perhaps disappointed the other hasn’t changed. Tom said they haven’t seen each other for at least two years. That’s a long time for children. Ann isn’t a child, of course,” she added before Simon could contradict her, “but she’s still young, and young people change so quickly.”

  “They both seem eager to see each other, from what Tom told us. I can’t imagine either of them being disappointed. Is that all you’re worried about?”

  Miranda hesitated.

  “You’re worried about Tom being disappointed, aren’t you?” Simon said.

  “No.” She frowned. “Not really. It’s just that he cares so much about Jack. If the meeting doesn’t go well, he’ll blame himself.”

  “Miranda.”

  “Don’t look at me like that, Simon. And don’t use that tone.”

  “You’ve got to stop worrying about Tom. He’s my friend, too, but he’s quite able to take care of himself. After your display of hostility the other day, I’m starting to think you’re in love with him.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She felt her face grow warm. Taking one of the ornamental cushions from behind her back, she tried to smooth the creases in it. “I merely expressed my opinion.”

  “Yes, far more openly than you do with most people.” The smug, knowing look was still on Simon’s face.

  Miranda threw the cushion at him.

  Simon caught it and set it aside, his expression turning serious. “Why don’t you tell Tom the truth about the penitentiary?”

  “He’d think less of me.”

  “I mean the complete truth, including my part in it. You would never have gone there if it wasn’t for my stupidity. My failure to protect you.”

  “Oh, Simon. I forgave you long ago for that, and I wish you’d forgive yourself, too. I believed Richard when he said it was the best place for me and Sam.” She closed her eyes to block out the memory of the madness that had descended on her when she realized Richard had lied about allowing her to take Sam with her.

  “It shouldn’t have happened, all the same.” Simon shook his head as if to clear it. “But we were speaking of Tom. You ought to give him more credit. He does jump to conclusions sometimes, but he’s willing to admit when he’s wrong. Besides, I doubt there’s anything you could say or do that would knock you off that pedestal he’s set you on.”

  Puzzled, she asked, “What are you talking about?”

  He chuckled. “Blind as bats, the pair of you.”

  Before she could demand an explanation of Simon’s provoking statement, Tom and Jack arrived. Jack was clearly struggling to control his excitement—although he didn’t speak much, he was as restless as Miranda, fidgeting in his chair and gazing at the door with bright, expectant eyes.

  Tom’s state of mind was more difficult to determine. He seemed subdued and thoughtful, but as the four of them sat in the drawing room waiting for Ann, more than once Miranda caught Tom looking at her intently, though without animosity. When he saw that she noticed, he looked away. She was still on edge from their argument and hoped he wouldn’t try to return to it.

  Nobody seemed to be in a particularly talkative mood, though Simon made a few tentative observations about the weather. Although Jack’s fidgeting increased as the minutes passed, he was behaving remarkably well, considering his age and the excitement he must be feeling at the prospect of seeing his beloved sister. Of the four of them, Tom seemed to be having the most difficulty. He repeatedly rose from his chair and paced about the room, just as Miranda had done earlier, though he didn’t rearrange any furniture or ornaments. Miranda was just about to advise him that he was wearing holes in the carpet when he stopped abruptly and looked at her.

  “It’s been half an hour. I’m going to try to find her,” Tom said. His expression was grim.

  “Can I come?” Jack asked.

  “No, you’d better stay here
in case your sister arrives while I’m gone.”

  “Don’t you think we ought to wait a bit longer?” Simon asked.

  “It’s been long enough.” Tom looked at Miranda again and asked, “Will you come with me?”

  She was startled by his request, but she agreed. She went to get her hat and joined Tom outside. It was a warm, sunny day, and the trees had lately burst into full leaf. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, letting the scent of lilacs trick her into believing she was back in the country.

  “We’d better take a cab to the Smithsons’ house,” Tom said. “It will be faster than the Underground.”

  “Very well.” She looked up at Tom’s face, searching for some clue to his state of mind. He seemed more agitated than was reasonable under the circumstances.

  Once inside the cab, Miranda felt even more off-balance. She’d been in cabs only a couple of times in her life, and never with Tom. They were expensive, and in London it was easy to take the Underground or an omnibus to one’s destination. If Tom had been in a more pleasant mood, the experience would have been uncomfortably intimate, given how enclosed and private the space was.

  “I’m sure Ann was simply detained,” Miranda ventured. “She’s probably on her way to our house.”

  “Or she decided not to go,” said Tom grimly.

  “You said she was in tears at the mere mention of her brother. Why shouldn’t she wish to see him?”

  “Who knows? She’s evidently a flighty creature.”

  Miranda compressed her lips to prevent the retort she wanted to make. Tom was making uncharitable assumptions about someone he knew very little about, but to point out that fact would only invite further argument. She knew he couldn’t be reasoned with when he was in this mood.

  “Jack has been counting the minutes to this meeting since we arranged it,” Tom said, oblivious to Miranda’s admirable self-control. “If that girl doesn’t have a good reason for not showing up, I’ll be sorely tempted to box her ears. I won’t have Jack disappointed.”

  Miranda was alarmed by Tom’s attitude. His overprotectiveness of the boy wasn’t good for either of them. “Jack has been disappointed many times before in his young life,” she said firmly. “One more disappointment, however unfortunate, won’t kill him.”

  “I didn’t expect this from you,” he replied, turning to her with fire in his eyes. “I thought you’d be sympathetic to Jack’s situation.”

  “Oh, stop roaring at me like an angry lion!” she cried, exasperated. “It’s time you looked at Jack clearly instead of through the cloudy window of your childhood. Jack’s childhood is not yours. Jack is not you. And even you wouldn’t have grown into a responsible adult if you’d been shielded from every disappointment.”

  Tom stared at her in silent shock.

  She raised her chin and met his eyes, ready to stare him down if necessary. But there was no contest. His expression softened into bewilderment.

  “Is that what you really think—that I don’t see Jack clearly?” he asked.

  “Your efforts to help him are admirable, but can you truly tell me he doesn’t remind you of yourself at his age? Can you really be objective about him?”

  “No,” he said quietly. “I can’t tell you that.” He gazed out of the cab window, seemingly lost in thought.

  After a few minutes, he looked at her again. “You’re right,” he said, sounding surprised. “Of course you’re right. How blind I’ve been!”

  “We’re all blind to some things.”

  There was another long pause. Then he smiled, ever so slightly. “So the mouse isn’t afraid of the lion, then?”

  “No. The roaring is only for show, from what I can tell.”

  He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I’m glad the mouse can roar, too, when necessary. Thank you for telling me the truth.”

  The warmth of his hand on hers sent a tremor through her, and she became too aware of how close they were sitting: her shoulder pressed against his arm, their legs touching. Yet he seemed oblivious to the impropriety of it. Was he like this with other women? Had he forgotten she was a woman? Or did he know perfectly well what he was doing and what effect it must have on her?

  Fortunately, they had reached their destination, and Miranda burst out of the cab the moment the driver released the door, hoping Tom would assume she was merely impatient to meet Ann.

  A woman was standing on the street nearby, but it didn’t occur to Miranda that she could be Ann until Tom alighted from the cab and the woman hurried towards him. She looked considerably older than eighteen, and though she was very pretty, the neckline of her dress was too low and too tight for her ample bosom. Miranda blushed on her behalf, then admonished herself for judging the girl so quickly when she’d only just criticized Tom for his own negative assumptions. Ann likely had only one good dress and didn’t realize it was immodest.

  Tom introduced Ann to Miranda, but before Miranda could say a proper greeting, Ann turned to Tom and said plaintively, “Where’s Jack?”

  He looked puzzled. “We were expecting you at the Thornes’ house.”

  “You said you’d bring Jack ’ere.”

  “I said no such thing.”

  The lion showed signs of resurfacing, and Miranda decided to interject before the tension in the air could erupt into outright hostility. “Will you give Ann and me a few minutes alone?” she asked him.

  He nodded, looking relieved, and, after asking the cabdriver to wait for them, walked about twenty paces down the street. Ann relaxed visibly.

  “Will you come to my house?” Miranda said. “Jack is waiting for you there.”

  Ann hesitated, not looking as pleased by this information as Miranda expected her to.

  “Don’t you want to see your brother?” Miranda asked, confused.

  Ann’s lower lip trembled, and she burst out, “’Course I do.”

  “Then why . . . ?”

  Ann studied Miranda’s face, then jerked her head in Tom’s direction. “How do you know ’im?”

  “Canon Cross is a family friend,” Miranda said. “He can be a little fierce at times, but he’s worked very hard to help your brother. He means well.”

  “I ain’t so sure. Looks like a toff, but ’e knows too much about what you gentlefolks call ‘low subjects.’”

  Miranda had no intention of asking for clarification. And she didn’t blame the girl for not trusting Tom. What she must have experienced at the hands of some men would naturally have given her good reasons not to trust others. Miranda also had to admit that Tom wasn’t always as charming as he seemed to think he was.

  Knowing that a defense of Tom’s character wouldn’t convince Ann, she said instead, “You needn’t talk to him if he makes you uncomfortable, but if you’d like to see your brother, please come with me. I promise you’ll be safe, and you can leave any time you wish.”

  Ann relented and followed Miranda to the waiting cab.

  The cab was only meant for two, so Tom offered Ann his place, paid the driver, and said he’d follow them in another. During the ride, Ann peppered Miranda with questions about Jack, asking about everything from his living situation to his health. Miranda answered as fully as she could, using the opportunity to subtly let Ann know what an important role Tom had taken in Jack’s life. The girl didn’t make any further comments about Tom, interested only in her brother.

  When they reached the house, Miranda entered the drawing room first, followed by Ann, whose eyes lit up when she saw Jack. He jumped up and ran to her, nearly knocking her over with the force of his embrace.

  Miranda would have loved to sketch Jack and Ann—the emotional reunion would have made a most appealing painting. She was sorry Tom wasn’t there to see the siblings meet, but he arrived not long afterwards and observed the happiness of his charge with a smile. He, Miranda, and Simon stood back so as not to intrude, though Jack was oblivious to the onlookers, imprisoning Ann’s neck in a stranglehold. Ann seemed to be trying not to cry.

>   “Why don’t we give Jack and Ann some time alone to become reacquainted?” Miranda suggested to Simon and Tom. “I’ll have Jane bring us tea in the dining room.”

  Simon and Tom agreed. Miranda asked Jane to prepare the tea things, then sat beside Simon at the dining-room table.

  “What now?” asked Simon, looking pensive. “Do you think those two will find a way to live together?”

  “I don’t think so,” Tom said from across the table. “Ann’s employer didn’t even want Jack in her house for a visit. Besides, I’ve found him a situation.”

  “You have?” Miranda exclaimed. “Where?”

  “Lord Carrington has agreed to take him on a trial basis as a boot boy.”

  “That’s wonderful. You must be relieved,” Miranda said.

  “I am,” Tom said, “but of course it will be more difficult for Jack and Ann to see each other if he’s living with the Carringtons.”

  “Perhaps the Carringtons would be willing to employ Ann as well,” Simon said.

  “I doubt that.” Tom spoke with certainty. “Lady Carrington is very particular about her women servants.”

  “But she also has a great deal of compassion for fallen women,” Miranda retorted, only just resisting the impulse to add, unlike you. She wished she didn’t feel compelled to defend Tom to Ann and vice versa.

  Tom looked at her as if he had heard the unspoken accusation, but he didn’t look angry, only thoughtful. “You may be right,” he said slowly. “Ann’s current employer doesn’t have much compassion for her. I confess I don’t understand the girl, either. In the two times I’ve seen her, she’s behaved so differently that she might be two separate people. What do you think ought to be done for her?”

  Miranda suddenly felt uncomfortable. “I’m sure I’m not the right person to ask.”

  “I think you’re exactly the right person, considering your experience working with girls like Ann. Now that I’ve come down from my high horse”—a wry smile flickered across his face—“I’d like to learn from you.”

  Such humility on Tom’s part was unexpected, and she wasn’t prepared for the way it made her feel. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and kiss him, even with Simon right there.