The Immovable Mr. Tanner

by Jennifer Joy

  Such a mixture of want and dread coursed through her as she made her way to the breakfast room. It was an unexpected but welcome relief when she found the entire household conversing around the table. She glanced at the wall clock. It was earlier than their usual time to gather to break their fast.

  Elizabeth greeted her with a smile. “William has made all the arrangements, Arabella. We shall go to Shadewood Manor in the open carriage. The day is lovely, and it would be a pity to waste it when our spirits are in need of sunshine.”

  Arabella felt her shoulders ease down. She ought to have known they would not send her alone to her father’s estate.

  Georgiana pushed her plate away and harrumphed. “I would go with you, but I must call at the Chuftons to smooth over ruffled feathers.” Looking at Mr. Tanner, she continued, “I stayed at home to see you instead of going to their ball. You, sir, owe me a dance.”

  Mr. Tanner’s fork stopped partway to his mouth. Grimacing at the bite of sausage, he set his cutlery down and shoved his plate away as if his little sister had quite spoiled his appetite. “I do not dance,” he grumbled.

  Georgiana’s eyes glinted in merriment at his gruff manners. “Not even with me?” she asked, batting her lashes, knowing he would not refuse her.

  “Only with you, and only if there are no onlookers to laugh,” Mr. Tanner said with a pointed look at his brother.

  Mr. Darcy shrugged his shoulders. “It cannot be helped. My wife dearly loves to laugh, and I am powerless under her influence.”

  Elizabeth chuckled. “And there is no more welcome sound to my ears than your heartfelt laughter, my love. Surely, Tanner would not deprive us of such a simple pleasure when he, too, could benefit greatly from a hearty guffaw,” she teased.

  “Do not count on it,” Mr. Tanner said, his grumbly exterior fading as he pulled his plate closer and consumed the greater part of a muffin in one bite. Arabella wondered what would he think of her Banbury cake and jam tartlets?

  Mr. Darcy cleared his throat, then said, “I sent letters by messenger to Lieutenant Annesley’s acquaintances, as well as to the surgeon you named. If you are accused of your husband’s murder, we will be prepared. My man is making inquiries about your brother as well. If he had enemies amongst his friends or any unsettled debts or disputes, he will find them. Until then, we will do our best to appease your family after delivering the distressing news.”

  Elizabeth added, “You and Tanner ought to make inquiries about Lord Lofton at your club, William.”

  Mr. Tanner snorted. “Me? In a gentlemen’s club?”

  Mr. Darcy’s eyes narrowed, inspecting his brother.

  Mr. Tanner’s shoulders hunched up, and he folded his arms over his chest — a gesture Arabella suspected meant either disapproval or restraint … or, perhaps, both. Right now, he looked as if he wished to strangle his brother. But Arabella knew he would not. He was an imposing figure, but every single person she had discreetly pressed for details about Mr. Tanner’s temperament had attested he was never violent. Forceful when necessary, but never provokingly aggressive. He ended the fights in his tavern. He never started them.

  Finally, after some time, Mr. Darcy spoke. “You are quite right, Tanner. Your dress suits you well for the country, but it is not quite the wardrobe of a gentleman.”

  Before Mr. Tanner could object, Mr. Darcy added, “We shall visit my tailor this afternoon.”

  The shock on Mr. Tanner’s face was enough to make Arabella’s troubles disappear (if only for a moment … but, oh, what a glorious moment!) She imagined how he would look in breeches and a fitted coat. When a sigh escaped her, she hastened to close her gaping mouth.

  Tanner could not change the subject quickly enough. He would rather have a tooth pulled than wear pointy collars and tight breeches.

  Glaring at his infernally annoying little brother, who dared to grin at him still, he said, “You are certain the two extra footmen accompanying Georgiana are capable?”

  Were it up to Tanner, he would have sent a regiment of footmen — all of them armed to the teeth — to accompany Georgiana and her maid on her social calls.

  "We shall draw more attention to ourselves with so many attending me," objected Georgiana, clearly wishing she could accompany Arabella and Mrs. Elizabeth to Shadewood Manor instead of soothing a society matron's hurt feelings.

  "Humor me, Georgie," said Darcy, his words tender, but his firm gaze brooking no argument.

  She returned his determined look, and Tanner almost laughed at how similar the two were in temperament. It filled Tanner with pride to see the obstinate streak in her. She was not so delicate as her fair appearance let on.

  Tilting her chin defiantly, she finally said, "Very well, but I expect you to tell me everything upon your return." She looked imploringly at Arabella.

  "I would not dream of keeping anything from you," answered Arabella. She was uncharacteristically flushed. It struck Tanner as odd, but as it was becoming, and not feverish, he did not inquire after her health.

  Mrs. Elizabeth added, "Your role is an important one, Georgiana. We must keep up appearances. We do not wish for word to spread about what happened last night, and your calling on Mrs. Chufton lends a sense of normality to our habits. It is why your brothers have decided to drive through Hyde Park on our way to Shadewood Manor. We are simply a family enjoying an outing — appropriate since we have family visiting us — and making calls."

  Tanner's eyelid twitched. He had not agreed with Mrs. Elizabeth's scheme to put them all on display by driving leisurely through the park. How was he to go unnoticed when she was intent on making him a spectacle? And would the Chuftons not wonder why Georgiana was accompanied by her maid rather than her companion? Surely, the prim and proper people-watchers in Hyde Park would wonder why Arabella was enjoying a leisurely drive with Mrs. Elizabeth instead of Georgiana. It was an unsatisfactory arrangement which would only lead to unbidden curiosity from onlookers.

  "Stop that!" Georgiana said, shoving at his crossed forearms.

  Tanner looked around him, oblivious to what she spoke about, but willing to indulge her. Arabella’s hand covered her smile while Mrs. Elizabeth did not bother to hide her glee.

  “Stop what? I only sit here.”

  "You look like an angry bull. Unfold your arms before you have everyone in your path thinking you are looking for something to smash."

  He dropped his arms to his sides and tried to relax his shoulders to the laughter of his brother. Tanner did not care. He would do anything to please Georgiana — even learn how to dance. She was probably right anyway. He would only draw more attention to himself if he scared the friendly folks in the park. Was Arabella frightened by him?

  Casting what was meant to be a quick look across the table, and promptly wishing he had not done so when he could not redirect his gaze as he had intended, Tanner at least reassured himself Arabella did not appear frightened in the least.

  Her hand dropped from her mouth to the lace at her throat. The soft smile with which she regarded him and the curve of her shoulder visible under the lace she fingered warmed him.

  Blast it! Now he was sweating and uncomfortable and at a loss for what to do with his unfolded arms.

  He rose from the table. He needed to act, to do something — anything.

  Georgiana popped up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "That is better. You are not the only one unhappy with today's arrangements, but I promise to behave if you will do the same."

  She was a clever one, and Tanner proudly smiled at her in earnest. "I promise. No angry looks. No … smashing."

  He was rewarded with dimples and a tinkle of laughter that made him forget how to feel surly.

  Even two hours later, when it was time to depart for Arabella’s childhood home, he sat a little taller in his saddle as he watched the wheeled fortress conveying Georgiana to her social calls roll away from them.

  Brutus pranced like a vainglorious popinjay beside Arabella, knowing his big, black fo
rm was the only thing she could see out of his side of the carriage. He snickered every time she looked away from him.

  "He remembers you," Elizabeth teased Arabella.

  "I do not know whether to be flattered or humbled that my greatest admirer is a horse." Arabella smiled at Brutus in such a way as made Tanner grip the reins tighter. She did strange things to his insides, but it was sobering to remind himself that her smile had not been directed at him. How demeaning to be jealous of his own horse!

  "Show off," Tanner grumbled, to which he received nary a flicker of Brutus' ears.

  The park was crowded with fashionable people clearly out to see and be seen. Hats tilted at rakish angles, riding habits in colors meant to rival the brightest spring blossoms, horses groomed to a shine comparable to their masters' boots, and polite inquisitive nods from everyone they passed.

  It made Tanner uneasy.

  Mrs. Elizabeth laughed. "You cannot avoid people’s looks, Tanner. And I do believe Brutus is enjoying himself immensely. Do as he does and make the most of it. You are new in town and associated with us, so you are bound to draw a great deal of attention. Not to mention the season is upon us, and you are unmarried."

  Great. Just great. “And I suppose an unmarried gentleman must be in want of a wife?” he asked sarcastically.

  “It is a truth universally acknowledged,” she said with a level stare at him.

  Tanner grimaced as they continued down the path, feeling as if he were some shocking display at an exhibition when couples pointed and whispered in his direction and lone riders slowed down to get a better look as he rode by. Did they have nothing better to gape at?

  He only relaxed when they seemed to have passed by most of the spectators. In fact, Tanner did not see anyone else about. Ah, sweet relief!

  Darcy interrupted Tanner’s momentary tranquility, saying, “Welcome to the marriage mart, Tanner.”

  Him? In the marriage mart? Preposterous!

  Sorely tempted to spin Brutus around and gallop home to the peace of his inn, Tanner held his hands still when a whip cracked through the air. It was not a ball of lead from a pistol, but the effect on him was the same.

  His senses on full alert, Tanner looked farther down the path to see a gentleman in coachman dress and a top hat driving a curricle with two matching grays. He weaved expertly, if not carelessly, around carriages and riders.

  Darcy's face clouded. "Thoughtless man," he said, instructing his coachman to give the gentleman a wide berth, an easy enough request to fulfill given the straight stretch of wide path before them.

  The whip-wielding man in the curricle rounded a turn, advancing toward them at an alarming clip. Brutus’ ears flinched, his disapproving snort reaffirming what Tanner feared.

  Tanner watched the coachman’s hands, but the man held the reins straight in front of him. He did not attempt to alter his path. He aimed his curricle at top speed directly at Darcy’s carriage.

  Darcy's driver swayed the carriage to the other side of the road, but the coachman followed them. The ladies shrieked in alarm when their driver veered abruptly to the opposite side once again. Darcy shouted, throwing himself over the ladies and holding them against the carriage floor, offering what little protection he could with his body.

  Tanner snapped at the sound of the coachman’s whip. “Hyaw!” he shouted, leaning forward and squeezing his thighs around Brutus’ flanks.

  His fearless stallion charged forward.

  A cool calm fell over Tanner as he focused on the man and what he must do if it came to that.

  Seconds stretched before Tanner. If the crazy coachman did not veer to the side soon, Tanner was going too fast and in the wrong direction to grab one of the horse's bridles to lead them away from the coach — a risky maneuver in its own right. Brutus was agile, but he could not whip around that fast. They would plow through the middle. It would be messy.

  Brutus raised his head, ready for the impact. Tanner clenched his jaw and braced himself. Come what may, he would stop the carriage from hurting his family.

  Tanner heaved Brutus to the side as the man pulled his reins violently, turning the curricle abruptly to careen perilously toward them. The leather harnesses of the speeding pair of matching grays grazed past Tanner, the rush of disturbed wind from the curricle a dangerous remembrance of how close he had been to a collision. Tanner could have reached out and grabbed the man by the collar, he was so close. He saw the sneer on the driver’s face. He had meant to scare them.

  Tanner spun Brutus around and followed the man until he passed Darcy’s coach.

  Sorely tempted to follow the fool, Tanner reined Brutus in and watched as the racing curricle continued down the path while Darcy's coachman traveled at a healthy clip in the opposite direction. It was for the best. Tanner held his breath when another carriage became visible down the lane, but the dangerous driver did not rush it as he had done to them. In fact, his pace slowed considerably. No, he had targeted them. Only them.

  Tanner shook in rage and cooped up relief, but he decided it best to follow the Darcys and Arabella rather than drag the ruffian by the collar out of his fancy curricle and smash him. He was no fool. He had learned long ago that conflicts were best resolved without fists — especially when careless fools were involved. And he would not break his promise to Georgiana. No smashing.

  Chapter 8

  Arabella clutched her stomach and exhaled slowly. She had never been ill inside a carriage before, and she was not about to lose her composure for fear of never regaining it again.

  Mr. Tanner’s selfless act filled her with awe … and stomach-twisting, throat-stinging, limb-shaking anxiety, which best expressed itself in the least appropriate emotion.

  “Why did you do that? Did you not realize you could have been killed?” she blurted angrily, twisting her hands around her reticule. They did shake so.

  She ought to have smiled. She ought to have spoken her gratitude aloud, but the weight of what had just happened — and what Mr. Tanner had been willing to do to prevent it — turned her into a ball of nerves.

  “I only did what needed to be done,” he said with a shrug, adding, “Anybody would have done the same.”

  Arabella could think of precious few men who would have thrown themselves in the way of a curricle for the sake of a family he refused to allow to acknowledge him. Had Mr. Darcy been on horseback, he would have done anything to save Elizabeth. Colonel Fitzwilliam, had he been present, would not have thought twice before intervening. That made three men. Three men out of the hundreds she had met in her lifetime.

  Mr. Tanner’s calm only agitated her more, but she had said enough. “Thank you,” she said in a clipped voice.

  He turned Brutus aside to trot beside the carriage, their tense posture alert for any more impending danger.

  A chill shook through Arabella. They were in danger. Because of her … because of Ambrose. But why? What had Ambrose done to involve her and her friends in his schemes? Whom had he crossed to provoke such a violent end and their continued persecution? And why should an honorable man risk injury for her sake?

  Mr. Darcy kissed Elizabeth. She ran her fingers over her husband’s face as if she were reassuring herself he was real and unharmed. Arabella was grateful they seemed to ignore her, but their intimacy made Arabella painfully aware of what she lacked.

  Arabella wrapped her arms around herself, acutely aware of Mr. Tanner riding beside the carriage. She could not imagine a safer place to be than inside his strong arms, and her desire to wrap herself up in his protection — to share the burden weighing on her — overwhelmed her until she realized the foolishness of her wanton thoughts.

  He had enough to worry about without her — no matter how capable and broad his shoulders may be. She would be as selfish as Ambrose if she allowed herself to wallow in her own grief when someone was out to harm the people for whom she cared the most. She must focus on the problem at hand. She must find the man who killed her brother and stop him.

/>   Mr. Tanner and Brutus aside, what had she seen? Arabella closed her eyes, focusing on the curricle and the driver. He had worn a coachman’s coat with a shoulder knot and large mother-of-pearl buttons which had made her blink when the sun flashed on them. The brim of his top hat had been wide enough to prevent her from seeing his face. Other than the matching grays, she had noticed nothing about the curricle. Her lips pinched together in disappointment. Blast it all, it was not enough!

  The crowded roads on the other side of the park prevented them from driving faster than the horses could walk, an advantage which allowed Arabella to calm her nerves and attempt conversation as the lanes widened and the busy sounds of London dwindled to a low hum. Her father’s estate — Shadewood Manor — was a comfortable distance from town, close enough to be considered fashionable and convenient, far enough to hear birds sing and appreciate the smell of freshly cut grass.

  They passed by fields where she used to collect wildflowers. The gnarled tree she had climbed near the embankment still opened its branches in welcome, its rustling leaves offering shade and whispering old promises. How often she had peered through its limbs to the sky, dreaming and planning. Her throat tightened as memories of the happier times she had foolishly taken for granted clouded her eyes.

  A handkerchief dropped into her lap, making her jolt.

  “I meant to hand it to you, not startle you,” Mr. Tanner said apologetically.

  Arabella reached up to her cheek, the tips of her white gloves damp when she examined them. “Oh, I had not realized…” she let her words trail off, unwilling to admit how much she missed her family and her home.

  “The road is dusty,” Mr. Tanner offered.

  She dabbed her eyes, grateful for the excuse he gave her, though anyone could see the roads were still packed hard from the recent rain. "Thank you," she said, pressing the smooth linen against her cheeks and inhaling the comforting scents of fresh bread, hearth smoke, and rosemary.

  How she wished she was on her way to Tanner’s inn instead of Shadewood Manor. She would ensconce herself in the kitchen and fill the rooms with the delightful aromas of her baking. She already had a collection of tried and tested receipts. Arabella imagined what it would be like to carry trays of her creations to hungry travelers, feeling useful and accomplished in something worthwhile. Working shoulder to shoulder with a man she trusted and respected. A man who valued her. Would his kisses taste as good as his handkerchief smelled?