Gentleman Jim
Page 32
Ned greeted her with civility, if not warmth. “Mrs. Carstairs.”
She motioned to her companion. “Allow me to introduce my friend, Miss Sophia Appersett.”
Miss Appersett turned, looking at him with a slight smile.
And Ned was struck dumb. There was no other way to describe it. The sight of Miss Appersett, with her creamy porcelain skin, lustrous sable hair, and wide, melting brown eyes, rendered him speechless. Quickened his pulse and temporarily fogged his brain.
She was a beautiful girl, possessed of an elegant bearing and a sweet expression. A classic English rose. Indeed, her perfect oval face might well have been set on a cameo. But the spark of sharp intelligence in the soft velvet of her gaze and the stubborn set to her dimpled chin spoke of a female who was much more than the sum of her face and her figure.
“Mr. Sharpe,” she said, extending her hand.
He scarcely had the presence of mind to take it. He just stood there and stared at her like a great, uncultured lummox. As if he’d never before encountered a lady.
“Miss Appersett is the daughter of Sir William of Appersett House in Derbyshire,” Mrs. Carstairs said. “Surely you’ve heard of Appersett House?”
Indeed Ned had. A fact that made his course of action all the clearer.
Sophia Appersett was a baronet’s daughter. A member of polite society whose family boasted a bloodline that could be traced back to the court of Henry VIII. What better lady with whom to align his fortunes?
He was all of one and thirty and had been contemplating marriage for the past year at least. But he’d never actually wanted to marry until he laid eyes on Miss Appersett. Within ten minutes of meeting her, he’d pictured her on his arm as he attended the entertainments of the season. Within a month, he’d envisioned her presiding over his house and warming his bed. His wife. Mrs. Sophia Sharpe, daughter of Sir William of Appersett House.
Setting his plan in motion had taken no effort at all. Sir William was practically a bankrupt. His only asset, besides his famous estate in Derbyshire, was the vast beauty possessed by his two daughters. He and his wife had brought Miss Appersett and her younger sister, Emily, to London with the hopes of finding them rich husbands.
And Ned was rich, for all the good it had done him.
He sat down behind his desk and resumed reading his reports. He might as well have attempted to read a document written in ancient Greek. He couldn’t focus. Couldn’t rid his mind of the sound of Miss Appersett’s quiet voice uttering those five fateful words.
We simply do not suit.
A sharp rap at the door wrenched Ned from his melancholy thoughts. He looked up to see his business partner, Walter Murray, strolling into his office.
“Well?” Walter asked.
Ned cast aside his papers and met his friend’s inquiring eyes. “I’ve been jilted.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Walter sat in the chair across from him as Ned apprised him of his meeting with Miss Appersett. When he finished, Walter gave an eloquent grimace. “You have my sympathies. But…she’s not entirely wrong about the two of you being ill-suited.”
Ned scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re as different as chalk and cheese.”
“How the devil would you know?”
“I’ve seen you together. That afternoon at Cremorne Gardens when we watched the high-wire act. And then again at Mrs. Ashburnham’s dinner party. I had more in common with Miss Appersett’s little sister than you had with Miss Appersett herself.”
“Rubbish.”
“You hardly said two words to the girl.”
“Not all of us are blessed with your innate charm.”
Walter snorted. “It wasn’t lack of charm. Though I won’t disagree that you fall short in that department. It was that you never seemed yourself around her—as if you were trying to be someone else.”
“I was trying to be respectful. To abide by the rules.”
“It’s not the way you would have courted a mason’s daughter.”
Ned glared at his friend. Walter was himself the son of a stonemason. The two of them had grown up together, both ambitious and both anxious to gain acceptance into society. “Miss Appersett isn’t a mason’s daughter. Her father only gave me leave to court her because I have money. Because he believed I could pass for one of them.”
“Just because you can pass for one of them doesn’t mean you are one of them.”
“A brilliant observation.”
“It’s the truth. Sometimes I think you forget it.”
“I never forget it,” Ned said in a low voice. The assertion betrayed far more feeling than he’d intended.
Walter’s expression briefly softened. “You’re truly broken up about this, aren’t you?”
Was he? Ned didn’t know. In all honesty, he couldn’t tell what he was feeling at the moment. A bewildering mass of disappointment, anger, and heartache was churning in his chest and in his stomach. He was quite tempted to put his fist through the wall. Either that or retire to his rooms with a large bottle of whiskey. Perhaps he was coming down with something?
“Did you love her?” Walter asked.
“No.” It was the truth. He hadn’t loved Sophia Appersett. How could he? He hardly knew her. Their relationship had never progressed beyond the veriest commonplace discussions about current events or the weather. Even then, Miss Appersett had done most of the talking.
And yet, seeing her had been the brightest spot in his day.
No, it hadn’t been love, but it had been…something. Something warm and filled with promise. Something that was gone now, irrevocably, leaving him empty and alone.
“I admired her. A great deal.”
The understatement of a lifetime.
“And Miss Appersett didn’t admire you in return, is that it?” Walter considered the matter. “What does that etiquette book of yours advise in these circumstances? A tin of sweets? A flowery apology?”
Ned stifled a groan. “I wish to God I’d never told you about that blasted book.”
Walter flashed a broad grin. It only served to make Ned more irritable. Things had always been easy for Walter Murray. He had a natural way about him. A twinkle in his green eyes and a spring in his step. With his long, lean frame and ginger-colored hair, he wasn’t particularly handsome. Nevertheless, people seemed to like him. Women seemed to like him.
“What you should do,” he advised, “is wait until Christmas and then, when you’re in Derbyshire, fall on your knees and beg her for a second chance.”
Ned leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. He was beginning to develop a pounding headache.
There would be no second chance with Miss Appersett. And even if there were, what use would it be? She’d already rejected him at his gentlemanly best. He had nothing left to offer her. No further way to prove himself worthy.
“I won’t be going to Derbyshire for Christmas.”
“Why not?”
“Damnation, Walter. Haven’t you heard a word I’ve been saying? My relationship with Miss Appersett is over. She’s called it off.”
“Ah, but has she rescinded your invitation to Appersett House?”
Ned gave a short, humorless laugh. “No, but I’m not likely to go, am I? Not after Miss Appersett’s given me my marching orders.”
“But—”
“She’s made her feelings plain and I mean to respect them.”
“And that’s an end to it?”
“It is.” Ned returned his attention to his papers, resolved to ignore the heavy ache in his heart. “My time with Miss Appersett was a pleasant interlude, but now it’s over. I shall go on as I did before. The world doesn’t end simply because I’ve had a personal disappointment.”
But he certainly felt like i
t had.
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I began writing Gentleman Jim many years ago, around the same time I wrote my other Regency romance, The Work of Art. The manuscript was originally titled Gentleman Jack, but by the time I got around to revising it, the HBO miniseries of the same name had been released, so I renamed my story Gentleman Jim. Not my favorite name, I confess, but still in the same spirit as the original.
The story was inspired by my love for two classic novels: Alexandre Dumas’s The Count of Monte Cristo, published in 1844, and Henry Fielding’s The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, published in 1749. There are various references to these two books throughout my story, in the names of characters, such as Jenny and Mrs. Square, and in lines of dialogue, such as when St. Clare says that he must “wait and hope” for Maggie to come back to London. I’ve included a part of that original quote as an epigraph. The full quote from Edmond Dantès’s closing letter to Maximilian Morrel reads as follows:
There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness. We must have felt what it is to die, Morrel, that we may appreciate the enjoyments of living.
Live, then, and be happy, beloved children of my heart, and never forget that until the day when God shall deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is summed up in these two words,—‘Wait and hope.’—Your friend,
Edmond Dantès, Count of Monte Cristo.
As always, if you’d like more information on nineteenth century fashion, etiquette, or any of the other subjects featured in my novels, please visit the blog portion of my author website at MimiMatthews.com.
This novel was painful to finish. And I mean that literally. My neck was in spasm and the whole world was in chaos. The last thing I wanted to do was meet a deadline. I’m so very grateful for the patience of everyone involved.
To my brilliant editor, Deb Nemeth. Thank you for all of your guidance. Your suggestions never fail to make my books better.
To my wonderful beta readers, Flora and Dana. Thank you for all of your feedback, and for cheerleading me on when the writing got difficult. I couldn’t have asked for a better team to see this story through.
Thanks are also due to my cover designer, James Egan; to Colleen Sheehan for formatting; and—as always—to my wonderful parents, who help me so much when things get difficult.
Lastly, I’d like to thank you, my readers. When I began serializing the first chapters of Gentleman Jim through my newsletter, many of you messaged me and asked why I didn’t just release it as a book. Your kind words and encouragement truly helped to make it happen. This story is for you.
USA Today bestselling author Mimi Matthews writes both historical nonfiction and award-winning proper Victorian romances. Her novels have received starred reviews in Library Journal, Publishers Weekly, and Kirkus, and her articles have been featured on the Victorian Web, the Journal of Victorian Culture, and in syndication at BUST Magazine. In her other life, Mimi is an attorney. She resides in California with her family, which includes a retired Andalusian dressage horse, a Sheltie, and two Siamese cats.
To learn more, please visit
www.MimiMatthews.com
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NONFICTION
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Animal Tales of the 18th and 19th Centuries
A Victorian Lady’s Guide to Fashion and Beauty
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The Lost Letter
A Victorian Romance
The Viscount and the Vicar’s Daughter
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A Holiday By Gaslight
A Victorian Christmas Novella
The Work of Art
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A Modest Independence
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A Convenient Fiction
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