by Abby Ayles
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope that he had taken to keeping with him now at all times.
“I am concerned that they won’t,” he said, staring down at his late wife’s handwriting.
“Even so, it is your choice. Caroline and I spoke over the matter. She agreed it is more important that you have your happiness.”
Grimshaw looked at her, surprised by her words.
“I’m not happy with her. In fact, I can’t stand her,” he said blatantly.
“What?” Hannah said, shocked by his words.
“She spoke of loving children so much, wanting to have some of her own to take care of, all throughout our time in London. I thought she would be a good match for the girls.”
“I understand where your desire comes from to see them taken care of well, but would it not be better to find a woman you have affection for?”
Grimshaw stared at her long and hard. He was sure that the pools of her blue eyes could tell what was being said in his mind. It was her that he cared for deeply.
“I could never,” he said softly, replacing the envelope. “I couldn’t bear to do that to Ann.”
“Your late wife?” Hannah asked softly.
All Grimshaw did was nod, looking down into his hands.
“I am sure she would be happy for you if you did find someone you could love.”
“Perhaps. She said as much herself,” he said with a wistful smile that faded quickly. “I could never do that though. It would be like a betrayal.”
Hannah didn’t know what to say. She could certainly appreciate the complexity of the situation and could plainly see the turmoil that it caused him.
“I thought if I found someone who would love my children as their own, I would do right by Ann’s request to remarry. I figured that was what she meant by it, anyway. It would be all the better to be a woman that I could never have romantic feelings for. That way I could always be true to her.”
“But do you honestly think Lady Grimshaw would be happy knowing you went through your life miserable for her sake?” Hannah paused before continuing in a gentle tone.
“Caroline only shared a few memories she had of her mother with me, but from what I have learned of Lady Grimshaw she was a kind woman. She would want you to be happy too.”
Grimshaw was surprised that Caroline had spoken to Miss Jacobson about her mother. He was more surprised she had any memories to speak of. She was so little when her mother had died and Grimshaw rarely ever talked about her due to the emotions it would bring up.
He thought Miss Jacobson’s words over. He knew she was right. Ann was too kind a person to ever ask anyone to suffer on her account.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Nothing can be done about it.”
“What do you mean?” Hannah asked, trying her best to hide the feeling of her stomach dropping to the floor.
Had the earl already made arrangements for marriage to Lady Tara? She hoped for Caroline and Rebecca’s sake that wasn’t the case.
“My intentions were clear enough when I asked the Marlows to come for the holidays. It will be expected now.”
“But not said?” Hannah asked again with relief.
He leaned back in his chair and studied her. Hannah was sure her face was giving way to her inner emotions.
“No,” he said softly, boring into her eyes with his own, ‘not said yet. But expected nonetheless.”
“I won’t presume to give you advice on a matter I could not understand fully myself. As a woman who loves Caroline and Rebecca, however, I might give a suggestion on how Lady Grimshaw might feel about a connection to Lady Tara for their sake.”
“And what would that be, Miss Jacobson?”
“Don’t. They are wise enough to realize you are suffering on their behalf. Even if Lady Tara does warm up to the girls, and perhaps she will, I worry that it will still cause a great rift between you and them.”
“You have such a wonderful relationship with your children. Far better than most. They need the love of their father far more than the affection of a woman.”
Grimshaw thanked her for her words. It certainly gave him quite a bit to think on. She left him in his office to his own musing for the rest of the morning while Hannah went to tell the girls the news that she would stay.
Though Grimshaw tried to resign himself to suffering a marriage for his children’s benefit, he knew that Miss Jacobson was right. Ann would not be pleased and if Lady Tara never warmed to the girls, they would certainly resent him for her presence.
There was one thing, however, that stayed ever-present in his mind as Grimshaw thought the matter over. Hannah Jacobson loved the girls. She loved them as if they were her own.
Clearly the feeling was mutual as well, as Caroline opened up to her in ways that she never did even for him.
He let himself muse over Miss Jacobson all the afternoon whilst Lady Tara played the piano and Lord Waldron talked to him of politics.
His feelings for her were no secret in his mind. He thought he saw hints that she too had some feelings for him. He couldn’t be sure though; she could possibly just have a great love for his daughters. There was also the interloping with David Poole to consider.
Grimshaw was sure he would get no peace until he knew the matter for sure.
Chapter 26
Lord Grimshaw knew what he had to do to put his mind at ease. He was never one for playing games. He would go to Hannah Jacobson and ask her straight out if she had feelings for him.
It was unorthodox to be sure but he had to know and this was the surest way to find out.
Unfortunately, he still had guests to entertain and that took him well into the night. Frustrated by the incessant chatter of Lady Waldron and Lady Tara he was put in a sour mood indeed.
Though it didn’t seem proper to go to Miss Jacobson’s room so late at night, he knew he could not find peace until he found out the truth of the matter for himself.
It was close to midnight when his guests finally retired and Grimshaw made his way to the far side of the east wing where Miss Jacobson resided.
He was sure she would be fast asleep in bed but he wouldn’t be able to sleep himself that night unless he at least tried.
With nothing but a candle to light his way, he walked the darkness, determined to resolve the matter by dawn. He stood in front of her door and listened in.
Of course, there was silence on the other side. He was almost positive now that she was fast asleep and this was a fool’s errand he was on. Nonetheless, he softly knocked on the door.
If she was awake it was loud enough to hear but certainly not loud enough to wake her in the event she had already gone to bed.
Surprisingly he heard the ruffling of fabrics moving inside and a steady voice bade him enter. He took a long steady breath for the sake of his nerves and opened the door.
Hannah Jacobson had no doubt that Mr. David Poole would attempt to enter her room again this night. No doubt the news that she would be staying on as governess would reach the downstairs.
She had never expected when she came to grovel at Lord Grimshaw’s mercy that he would even allow her to stay, let alone reinstate her.
Hannah was sure that she was on some euphoric high from the news when she determined her plan for the night. It was going to be now or never.
She would not live one more night in Brighton Abby fearing what creatures might stalk her in the night.
For this reason, when she heard the heavy footsteps headed her way, she was not only awake but ready. Surprisingly Mr. Poole knocked softly on the door.
Hannah had anticipated him attempting to get in without so much as an invitation. She shuffled herself around the bed with a candlestick in her hand. Raising it in the air to be ready when the door opened, she bade the vile fiend enter.
Grimshaw for the second time found himself being physically attacked by the tenacious Miss Jacobson.
Luckily as her weapon swung to hit him, he dropped hi
s candlestick, extinguishing the light and gripping what he guessed was a fire poker of some sort.
“You rake! You monster!” Hannah yelled.
She hadn’t anticipated Poole catching her blow. She desperately tried to yank the candlestick out of his grasp.
“What is wrong with you, woman?” Grimshaw’s voice shot back.
Hannah immediately dropped the candlestick into his hand.
“Lord Grimshaw?”
“Yes,” he said, exasperated and glad she had released her grip on the object.
He bent down to pick up his candle, now extinguished.
“Why would you tell me to come in only to attack me?” Grimshaw asked in confusion, holding the object close to his face. “And with a candelabra I see. A step up from the book I might add,” he added with humor.
“I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
“Yes, you keep saying that.”
Hannah turned and found the matches on her hearth. Lighting one, she lit the candle there and brought it to Grimshaw to light his as well.
He was looking down at her, partly gauging if she was to faint again like last time. Luckily, she still had her same complexion and instead of fear, she seemed alight with purpose.
“Perhaps you would like to tell me who you were expecting instead?”
Hannah pursed her lips close together. She had no desire to tell the earl that David Poole was harassing her.
He may have been kind enough to give her job back but he clearly still didn’t completely trust her. Otherwise why else would he ask to accompany them to Mrs. McCarthy’s house.
If she told him she was expecting Mr. Poole to enter her room in the middle of the night he would jump to his own conclusion before she would even be able to explain the reason.
Grimshaw set his candle down on the nightstand and crossed his arms, looking down on her severely.
“Miss Jacobson, I must insist you tell me. There is something going on here and I demand to know it.”
“Even if I did, you wouldn’t believe me anyway. I shall save my breath, thank you. Please tell me what brings you to my room at this late hour and quickly.”
“I will happily do so after you inform me who you are expecting instead of myself?” Grimshaw retorted, willing to match her stubborn nature.
Suddenly Hannah stilled at the sound of more approaching steps. Her eyes fell on the candlestick still in Grimshaw’s hands.
Recognizing her thoughts, he held it farther back from her and gave her a questioning look.
She instantly ran to shut the door and lock it as quietly as possible and then blew out the candles so that they were standing again in the dark.
“Please, sir,” Hannah whispered pleadingly, “the candlestick.”
“I believe all in company will be much safer if I hold this,” he returned in his own whisper, sensing that the guest was not welcome by her actions.
Grimshaw was puzzled by the whole event. But he had little time to register it as the light of a candle shone beneath the door and someone attempted to open the door without even a knock.
He watched as Miss Jacobson tensed for just a moment as the handle was jiggled. She took a step towards him and he couldn’t help but enjoy the fact that she was leaning towards him for protection.
What was it that she needed protection from? He was about to open the door and see for himself since she had no desire to tell him the name of this night intruder. Suddenly he heard the clanking of keys and one being slid into the lock.
“Oh dear,” she said under her breath. “He got a key.”
Grimshaw turned around, keeping Miss Jacobson at his back for protection. Though he was sure he couldn’t possibly need it he lifted the candelabra into the air as several keys were tried in the lock.
Finally, the clicking sound of gears turning echoed in the room and Grimshaw stiffened, ready to meet the assailant.
The door swung open and much to his surprise he found before him the shocked face of David Poole. David only hesitated a moment, before turning to run.
In two long steps, Grimshaw was out the door and facing the retreating figure of Poole.
“David Poole! I saw your face, man! Return right now or I shall have you arrested.”
His voice boomed down the hall and surely woke the whole house but he didn’t care. What he cared about at that moment was to know why Poole was at Hannah Jacobson’s door and with a key to boot.
Had he been right in his first assumption that they were interlopers? Even worse, was it a far more intimate relationship than he imagined Miss Jacobson would ever have outside of wedlock?
Poole halted at the earl’s words. There would be no chance for him to run now that he was recognized. It wasn’t hard to do so with his fire-red hair glowing against the candlelight even as he retreated.
“Lord Grimshaw, I had no idea you would…I am afraid we both have been entrapped in a very devious plot.”
Hannah now also exited her room and stood close by Grimshaw.
“Entrapped? What do you mean?”
“Obviously Miss Jacobson asked us both to be here tonight. Normally I don’t condone such immodest behavior,” Poole said, using his quick wit to his advantage. “I am afraid Miss Jacobson was most insistent I come to her room tonight.”
“I was not asked to Miss Jacobson’s chambers nor would I expect her to do the same to any man.”
Grimshaw looked down at the woman to his side.
“Of course not,” she said, surprised that he would even consider asking.
“I am afraid she is lying,” Poole said with an unfortunate look to his words. “She was most bewitching. I am ashamed to say she convinced me to visit her this night.”
“I would not lie to you, sir,” Poole continued. “I have been a loyal member of your staff these last five years. I have never given you a reason to mistrust me.”
Hannah was faltering as she stood. This was why she had not spoken a word to Lord Grimshaw about Poole. She was sure he would believe the man over herself.
“Hannah,” Grimshaw said, turning towards the lady, “tell me the truth of it and I will believe you.”
Hannah searched his eyes for his sincerity and in the dark recesses, she found it. She could lose nothing by at least trying.
“Mr. Poole has continued to harass me since my arrival despite my attempt to stop him. I have been forced to lock myself in my room at night for safety and cannot be alone in the house without fearing his attacks.”
“She lies, sir,” Poole said with a scoff.
“I highly doubt that as I myself have been witness to her attempt to fend off an attacker,” Grimshaw retorted.
“I have proof, sir,” Poole said, reaching into his pocket. “Here, a lock of hair that Miss Jacobson gave me as a symbol of her affection.”
He held up the golden lock in the glow of the firelight tied with a piece of twine.
Grimshaw turned to Miss Jacobson for a response. Her face went white as a ghost and for just a second he faltered in his belief of her words.
“He took it from me,” she said weakly. “I was in the garden. Mr. Poole pulled me into a corner, he held a knife to my throat so I wouldn’t scream and took the lock.”
He could see her clenching her fist to stop from shaking from just the simple memory of the event. He realized he knew the time well.
Grimshaw had watched her with the girls in the garden. After the children left, he thought he saw her walk into a darkened corner and then Poole walk out.
Now that the prejudice produced by the previous governess’s actions was removed from his eyes, he realized she didn’t slip into the alcove but was pulled. It was such a little variance but he knew it clearly as he replayed the memory in his head.
His stomach hit the floor and rage filled Grimshaw all at once. He struggled to know what emotion to stuff down and which one to allow free reign.
Hannah Jacobson had lived in fear under his very own roof these past months. Sh
e had been tortured, tormented, and threatened. Worse, she never found it safe to ask for his help.
Would he have believed her had she come to him? In all honesty, he couldn’t say he would have. It made him all the sicker with himself.
Grimshaw narrowed his gaze on David Poole and clenched his own fists. Poole swallowed hard and took a little step back.