Joseph nodded and then glanced down at the ring in his hand. What a strange mission he was being sent to complete. However, he would do all he could to fulfill the dying wish of a man for whom he cared deeply.
“Please,” Richard whispered, his voice barely audible, “tell her that…I am sorry…sorry for everything.” The man took two more shallow breaths before his chest no longer moved.
Joseph sat beside the bed for a while, hoping the man’s chest would begin to rise and fall once again. However, that time did not come, and Joseph felt the wetness in his eyes. This man was a true gentleman, a man whose integrity Joseph could only hope to emulate by half if even that well. And now, his greatest act as a gentleman, a testament to the respect Joseph had for this man, would be completed through this single mission. He would find this woman and bring her back to her home.
“Goodbye, Richard,” Joseph whispered as he squeezed the hand of the man who had taught him so much. “Know that I will complete my mission without fail, for you taught me that my word is everything.”
A moment later, Joseph left the room and informed Sherman of the passing of his master. Sherman would see to all the arrangements, as Richard had left him instructions.
“Will you be staying for the night, My Lord?” Sherman asked.
“No,” Joseph replied. He waited as the butler rushed to get his now dry coat and hat. “I will send for my things tomorrow.” He did not wish to take the time to have someone bring them down from the room in which he had first expected to stay. There was too much to do with his work at home and he needed to start making arrangements with his own business and that of Richard’s immediately. Once he set out to find this woman, he could be absent for a substantial period of time.
“Very well, My Lord,” Sherman said, his voice cracking.
Joseph placed a hand on Sherman’s shoulder. Sherman had been with the family for as long as he could remember, and the passing of the man who he served for so long had to be devastating. “Thank you for your service to Mr. Templeton. And do not worry; I will see to you continuing your position here.”
Sherman straightened his already rigid back, if that were possible. “Thank you, My Lord. I appreciate your kind words.”
“I will be back just as soon as I complete the request Mr. Templeton has requested, though it may be some time.”
“Very well, My Lord. I will look for you then.”
With that, Joseph rode off into the rain, the hurt of seeing his friend quickly fading. He would honor his word and bring this Rachel back to Elford Estates, of that he had no doubt. Then his mind turned to what those of the ton would say once he had control of such a vast estate. Not only would Joseph be rewarded for his handling of the estate, for he knew Richard would no doubt set him up with a hefty allowance for managing his business affairs, but another award also awaited him that was greater than money. Admiration.
Although the wind howled and rain continued to soak him, Joseph smiled, for this mission would both honor the promise he made to Richard as well as a promise he had made to himself long ago. Soon, those of the ton would look at him with acceptance, even Dukes and Marquesses seeking him out to do business rather than he groveling at their feet.
Seeing a much clearer future in sight, he rode faster, anxious to begin this next chapter in his life.
Chapter Two
“You put your hand on me again,” Rachel Cooper growled, “and I’ll break it off.” She peered through narrowed eyes at the tavern patron who had taken it upon himself to pinch her bottom. It was quite irritating that so many men seemed to believe she was there as an object onto which they could place their hands and explore, but she most certainly was not.
“No need gettin’ upset,” the man said, showing an almost toothless grin. “I just wanted a little touch.” Rachel had encountered many types of men, from those who could barely afford a pint to men who threw coin about as if they were pebbles on a beach, and their words were oftentimes very similar. They wanted a touch of her body, or her hair, or some other obscene request, and each was met with the same swift rebuke despite their financial status.
Setting the man’s stew down on the table in front of him, she put a hand to her hip, allowing her voice to return to its sweet honey. “Now, enjoy your stew. It’s much better in your stomach than on your head.”
The man sitting beside the first threw back his head and laughed, his hand slapping the table. Rachel walked away with a sniff and a quick nod, knowing she had once again won that small battle. Working in the pub could be a battle at times, but all in all, she did not mind it all that much. She had worked here in one form or another since the age of ten and lived here otherwise since five. The memories of what brought her here could be haunting if she allowed herself to focus on them; however, there was more to life than dwelling on the past. No one could change what had already happened, regardless.
Though Rachel was a woman, she was strong in mind and heart, and she refused to allow her circumstances in life to weigh her down. Instead, she used her past to fuel her dreams of a better day she knew would come. One day.
Her eyes scanned the room and the handful of patrons who were busy either eating or drinking or both. For the hour, every seat should have been filled, but instead the few loyal people dotted the room. Fewer patrons found their way to the Rooster’s Crow over the past year, and Rachel knew the debts her parents carried were only increasing. Although neither burdened her with the details directly, she had overheard on more than one occasion their worried discussion.
“If it would stop raining for a day,” Rachel’s mother said from behind her, “I think we’d fill the place again.”
Rachel turned toward the robust woman who wore a smile as kind and wide as the large white apron that spanned her middle girth. “You’re right, Mother,” Rachel replied, though she did her best to hide her doubt. “Soon the rain’ll stop and we’ll be so busy, our old friends can be invited back to work with us again.” She regretted the words as soon as they tumbled from her lips when she saw the pained expression on her mother’s face. They had let the last of the help go just a fortnight ago, and Rachel knew how much it hurt her mother to have to do such a thing. Not only did it hurt Rachel’s family, but the lack of employment for those who had to leave also was a hardship for them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”
Mildred gave her a pat on her shoulder. “I know, love,” she said with what was clearly forced bravado. “It’s all going to be fine; you just wait and see. Once business improves, we’ll have this place filled to overflowin’ like it once was.”
Rachel forced a smile, although inside she could not force out the melancholy. Her parents wished to eventually sell the pub and move to the home of her father’s brother on the border near Scotland, and although she knew she would never be disallowed to accompany them, she knew that the time had come when she should find her own way in life. How she intended to do that was unknown at this time, and the options were few for women in her position. She could either marry, which was not truly an option at the moment for she had no one to marry, or she could move into service. The latter was even less appealing. Why would she wish to serve some wealthy family, bowing and dipping like a person who was less than they?
Well, regardless of the choices at hand, they were what she had and she was not one to balk when adversity came her way. Either option would befall her and she would take it on with all the confidence she could muster.
A man walked through the door, his coat and breeches meant to be fine. Yet, had he truly been a man of wealth, he would have made a much better attempt at wearing clothing which had been made for him rather than the offcasts of those who had, in reality, attended a fitting session. The man walked around the perimeter of the room and directly to Rachel’s father, who stood beside the door that led to the backrooms. When George saw the man, his eyes went wide and his hands grasped at the apron over his chest. Rachel could not hear what they two men said, but she could
imagine it was not good.
“Mother? Why’s Jacob Down following Father to the back?”
Her mother smiled weakly, her hands mimicking George’s as they clasped her apron. “Ah, you know men,” she said in an attempt to lessen the importance of their meeting, though her voice cracked when she attempted a laugh, “always talkin’ up stories. Wouldn’t surprise me if yer father was doing that right now.” She placed a hand on the small of Rachel’s back and pushed her toward a table that had been vacated moments before. “Never you mind them. You’ve work to do.”
As Rachel made her way to the table, a man in a dirty hat and matching cloak lifted an empty glass toward her. She sighed as she grabbed it and went to refill it, casting dark glances toward the door that led to the backrooms of the pub. Jacob Down was a ruthless man, a known thief who offered loans to anyone who was willing to borrow from him. However, rumor had it that he was not disinclined to murder those who did not repay him, and it was this understanding that made her anxious. She had suspected some time ago that her parents had borrowed money from the man, but they had denied any dealings with him. Now, however, she wondered how far their lies went.
If her father had borrowed money from Jacob, there would be no way for him to repay it; they barely brought in enough to keep the doors of the pub open. As she looked around the now almost completely empty room, she knew it would take much to return the pub to its previous profitability. With the unending storms they had been having of late, she knew there would be no more patrons for the remainder of the night. That was how little business they had been doing.
Rachel stood at the window and gazed out onto the dark street. The man who had pinched her earlier walked past, his gate unsteady as he made an attempt to don his hat and missed his overly large head. She stifled a giggle and helped him get the hat into place, for which the man gave her a mumbled thanks.
Resuming her observation of the street, a huddled figure moved past the door and Rachel immediately recognized the woman beneath the old cloak.
“Kitty?” she called after the woman as she stood just inside the door to the pub.
The woman turned, her ragged burlap dress hanging from her body. She was no older than five and twenty, but her hard life made her appear in her middle years.
“Oh, hello, Rachel,” the woman said. She appeared thinner than she had the last time Rachel had seen her, and her dress was more patches than dress.
Seeing her friend in such a state tugged at Rachel’s heart. “Wait here a moment,” Rachel said, “I’ve something for you.”
The woman gave her an empty stare but nodded nonetheless. Rachel rushed to the kitchen, wrapped several slices of bread and hunks of cheese in a piece of cloth, and returned to the door. When she handed Kitty the small bundle, the woman looked up at her as if she had given her a gold coin.
“I wish I had more, but money’s scarce around here,” Rachel said with a smile. Kitty went to say something, but Rachel cut her off, adding, “Do you remember when you gave me potatoes from your garden two years gone now? I promised you I’d see you had payment for them, didn’t I? Well, consider this part of the payment.”
“Thank you,” Kitty said as she pulled the bundle to her chest and smiled. “I’ll be seein’ ye.” As the woman walked away, her step seemed to pick up just a bit, and Rachel smiled. In all honesty, she had already paid off the potatoes long ago, but the woman would have refused the bread and cheese if Rachel had not connected them to the previous debt she owed the woman.
Rachel collected the empty glasses and stew bowls from the now vacant tables and carried them to the kitchen. Her mother took them from her and placed them in the soapy water. “Don’t suppose anyone else has come in, have they?”
“I’m afraid not,” Rachel replied as she picked up a towel and began drying the washed dishes.
Mildred took the towel from Rachel. “Off with you now. I’ve got this. You should be gettin’ off to bed soon. The hour’s late.”
“Yes, Mother,” Rachel said. She knew better than to argue with the woman; she always lost even the smallest of battles.
As Rachel made her way down the hallway toward their living quarters, she heard the deep voices of her father and Jacob Down floating out from the small room her father used as his office.
“I don’t care for your tales of woe,” Jacob was saying in his oily, sneering voice. “You’re late on your payments, and I need my money. So, I’ll ask one more time, where is it?” Rachel could not miss the menacing tone behind that voice, and she trembled as she stood with her back against the wall listening as the two men spoke.
“I simply don’t have it,” her father was pleading. “Business has been extremely slow; you saw how empty the pub was! If I had anything to give you, I would. I’ve put the pub up for sale and I hope to have someone come forward to purchase it any day now. Once that happens, I’ll have the money to repay you, but until then, you can’t get blood from a stone.” Rachel’s heart broke as she heard her father’s words. He was the kindest person she knew, and the man had done more for her than anyone ever had.
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Jacob sneered. “You’ve got something I want, and if you give it to me, consider the debt as paid.”
“Of course,” George said, now sounding hopeful. “Whatever it is, I can give it to you.”
“Your daughter.” Cruel laughter followed and Rachel felt a cold chill run down her spine at the shrill sound. Time stood still as she thought of what this man would do to her father, or to her for that matter, if the rumors were to be believed, and she had no reason not to believe them. Several murders had been attributed to the man; however, the magistrate could not link them to him directly, primarily due to the fact that no person was foolish enough to speak out against him. “Give me your daughter as way of payment, and I’ll take her as my bride.”
“I will do no such thing,” her father sputtered in anger. “I’d rather die!”
Jacob chuckled, an evil sound to Rachel’s ear. “You just might, at that.”
Rachel could stand to hear no more. She would not allow her father to be hurt. Granted a debt needed to be paid, but not with his life; not debt was worth that much. Summoning courage, she stepped through the open door.
“Rachel!” her father gasped before she could speak. “Leave at once!”
Jacob turned to her and smiled. He looked well beyond his five and thirty years and was far from handsome, even without the deep scar that ran from his temple to his chin. “Ah, yes, the prize of the village,” he drawled as his eyes openly roamed over her, much like a man appraising a good cut of meat. His tongue shot out and licked at his lips in hunger, not much different from a man who looked down into a good hearty stew when he has not eaten in several days.
“So, you want to marry me, do you?” Rachel asked. “What’re the terms?”
Her father slammed his hand down on his desk. “Rachel, I asked you to leave!” he shouted.
Jacob shushed the man, not once taking his eyes off Rachel. “Your father owes me money, more than he can pay. Marry me and I’ll erase that debt completely.”
Rachel’s stomach churned, but she stood strong. To be this man’s bride would crush her very soul, but as her eyes fell on her father, she realized that it was better than her father being in pain, or even worse, losing his life.
“How much does he owe you?” she demanded.
“One hundred pounds,” Jacob replied. Then he narrowed watery eyes at her. “Why? Do you have it hidden somewhere in your skirts?” He laughed but Rachel ignored the barb.
Her father spoke up before Rachel could respond. “Give me three days, and I’ll have your money.” Rachel stared at her father. She knew he was lying; there was no way he could find that kind of money in a month, let alone in three days. The pub brought in less than that per quarter at the moment. She went to speak, but her father’s eyes told her to keep silent.
Jacob stood considering them both and then said, “N
o one could ever consider me a harsh man.” Rachel wished to disavow him of this, but she realized it would only earn her more trouble than it was worth. “Very well, I’ll return in three days’ time. Have my money or my wife waiting for me. Failure to produce one or the other will end…not so nicely.” He leaned toward Rachel as he stepped toward the door, his mouth near her ear, and she felt as if she would sick up every meal she had ever eaten. “You’ll be in my bed by week’s end,” he whispered before he walked past her and out of the room.
Rachel closed the door behind him and turned to her father. He was angry, that was clear by his clenched jaw and raised fist. She had seen him angry on so few occasions, she could have counted them on one hand. However, at this moment she was angrier still.
“What did I tell you about that man?” he shouted. “Now he wants you for his wife! Why’d you say such a thing to him?”
She took her father’s hands in hers and kissed him on the cheek. “Father, you and Mother have done so much for me. If it takes this to keep you both safe, then I’ll readily do it.”
He sighed heavily and hid his reddening eyes. “We love you as our own,” he said as he stared at the back wall of the room, leaving his back to her. “We always have. Being married to a scoundrel such as that man is not the life I wanted for you, nor will I allow it to happen. I’ll find a way to stop him.”
Rachel walked over and then hugged her father, who pulled her close. Her heart felt heavy, but when she pulled away from the embrace, she forced a smile. Although George was not her real father, just as Mildred was not her real mother—for she had not given birth to Rachel—they were her parents in every other sense of the word. They had raised her from a young age as if she were their own daughter, and she loved them more than anything in this world.
“I’ve lived a wonderful life because of the love you two have shown me,” Rachel said. “Now, no more talk of Jacob. You need rest and a chance to think about this money you believe you’ll somehow find before his return.”
The Earl's Mission: Defiant Brides Book 4 Page 2