by Lark Watson
“Fine, Ms. Byrne, if you wouldn’t mind, you can put this discussion to rest.” She waved a hand around the room as if I couldn’t help but see who was there and continued, “There has been an ongoing discussion since we arrived about which of the gentlemen is the most attractive and you are here to tell us your opinion and to break the tie.”
I glanced at all of the men, wondering how in the world there could possibly be a tie. As I did, Ms. Ingram continued in a fake whisper, “Luckily it doesn’t take beauty to see beauty.”
I did not flinch at this because, while rude and purposefully hurtful, was also true. I was not here to stand next to someone who had been called the most beautiful woman in America and expect to be anything less than a small, dark pebble in a gem shop.
“And so, Ms. Byrne, I leave it to you. Which of the gentlemen is most attractive?”
All eyes swung to me and I couldn’t help but feel the weight of them. You would think I was Paris and the men were the goddesses offering golden apples and such to win the vote. They all looked so intensely interested for just that moment.
But to me, the answer was obvious, even as it was not my own.
“Micha.”
“Yes?” he said from behind me where he’d come to stand.
“No. Micha, I think he must certainly be the most attractive.” As I said it, I watched Mr. Thorneton across the room.
He was the only one of the three who had not stood and come into the circle of women for inspection. He sat, still sipping his whiskey, watching this play out in front of him as if it were a play run for his own personal enjoyment.
“You must be kidding,” Ms. Ingram said, the disdain not hidden this time, but nearly spit out at me.
Mr. Thorneton, as he well knew was not a handsome man. He was shorter and stockier than the others, his visage was dark and swarthy, he had the hard, square features of a brawler. No, his looks would not be something that would attract nearly any woman to him.
I glanced to the other two men. One was tall and thin, a wiry build that spoke of quick strength and lean, hard edges. He was not bad looking, but he was more mundane than anything. If he were to walk into a bank and rob it there was nothing much that could be said about him – average height, looks, dark hair, dark eyes. Just as average as the next man.
The third man was a mountain. Tall and fair skinned, his jet black hair and blue eyes set him apart as probably the most noticeable, but nothing beyond that spoke of good looks. His features were unbalanced, with eyes too small and too close together to be striking even in their color, his nose sadly outweighed them in prominence.
But, then, Micha. Turning I glanced up at him as he held in the smirk fighting come out.
Micha was what one expected a romance hero in a romantic suspense or military thriller to look like. He was tall and lean, but even his forearms when he rolled his shirtsleeves up where cut and shaped into hard muscle. His dark blond hair had just enough of a wave to give it character. His eyes, green, were uniquely dark, bringing you back to look at them again through his blond framed lashes. His mouth, it is what would have been called sensual in other times, softening the hard line of his square jaw. It was that jaw, and the shadow of beard from the day’s earlier shaving, that made him appear almost model like, until you saw the razor edges beneath them.
Micha wasn’t just the best-looking man in the room. He was most likely one of the best looking men in most rooms. Which added to my confusion about why I’d been called down.
“Well, that’s for nothing,” one of the place-setting brunettes said.
“How is that?” I asked, surprised to feel Micha lean against my chair.
“No one voted for me.” He winked when I glanced up at him.
“Truly?” I asked before realizing the insult it might have to the others.
And then I realized, each of the woman had voted where her interest lay. Each with the man who held either her heart or the key to it.
And each had accepted it as his due. I tried not to swing my gaze toward Mr. Thorneton again knowing this meant that his affections may be well and solidly accounted for. Nor did I want him to suspect that mine were for Micha—or himself.
“Perhaps that explains where Micha goes each evening,” one of the men said to general laughter.
I felt the hot flash of a blush race up my cheeks, but let them laugh because, truly, what else could I do? I looked at each, settled in their own world laughing at a stranger to her face and none were looking back at me, none dare engage in their joking with their victim. None that is until Mr. Thorneton.
He was looking at me as if I were a surprise he did not care for.
“You may go now since you’ve been of no use whatsoever.” Ms. Ingram waved her hand at me, as if waving away a fly.
I took the moment to rise from my chair, happy to be going.
“And honestly, wherever did you get that dress? Goodwill?” She laughed to be joined by the other women. “It’s not exactly the look for an evening in, is it? But, I guess when one has needs to try to appear more than one is, she must do what she can, even if it’s secondhand.”
I quickened my pace crossing the room, I’d found as a child that staying to the edges was the safest. But now and in this place I had no choice but to walk straight through as everyone rearranged themselves. And so I rushed on, glad to be rid of them and out and on my own. Soon to be in my own room where I could put my simple black dress away and don my equally simple nightdress.
As I turned to make my way up the stairs, a voice behind me halted my steps.
“Ms. Byrne.” He paused, just out of site of the room. “Where are you going?”
“To my room, sir.” I couldn’t, I just couldn’t go beyond that.
We stood facing one another, my hands shaking from the fear I was putting aside and the adrenaline to have stood up and crossed the room. His gaze rushed over me, taking me in all at once and in small, fragile pieces.
“Jane,” he said, as he took the last few steps in quick succession to be there before me.
I looked up at him, the man who was, to me, the most attractive in any room no matter Micha’s fine looks, and wondered what new torture his nearness would bring me this eve.
And he, in turned stared down at me, his gaze as unreadable as it ever was when he guarded his thoughts.
“Jane, do not let those women upset you—they are beneath you.” He took a step closer to me, lifting my chin to force me to face him. “You are miles above them and they fear that their poor souls are showing when they share space with you. It is a mirror they do not like and are not used to since all their mirrors tell them how lovely they are.”
I’m sure they did. I studied him wanting to ask if he was Ms. Ingram’s mirror as well.
“Mr. Thorneton, that is so far from the truth as to be a lie.” I swung my face away from him.
I did not care what those women thought of me. I knew before I walked in the room that I was a target to score points off of. They had shown in little ways in the small moments we were near that their disdain was complete. And, who was I to bother to change their minds? They lived in a different world. One I was not interested in so I held no envy toward them. But, words, even from those you do not respect, can hurt.
Especially when they came from the woman who Mr. Thorneton had given his esteem to.
“Jane.” He stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup my face, the rough callouses of his fingers a soft abrasion against my skin, “My Jane.”
I gasped, taking a step back to lose the connection. How could I allow it when I knew that there was nothing there for him? I was a pet, an amusement. He was the master here and I was one of his puppets.
I turned and rushed up the stairs, away from him as quickly as I could go. Before I reached the first landing, he called my name again.
“Jane.” He waited until I turned to face him. “I expect you tomorrow evening to join us after dinner. Please don’t be late this time.”
> With that, he turned and strolled back into the library as if he hadn’t just created a nightmare for me in the making.
As if there was nothing to me for him to worry about or care for.
As if I were nothing.
Chapter 28
The day after the judgment of the gentlemen, I awoke from a fitful night’s sleep. Beyond the worries of the coming day, the snow had continued to fall and we were surrounded by a wall of white stretched out like I a vast ocean that washed everything in its wake clean.
The weatherman was calling for the storm to continue, its strength only waning later into the evening. The call for over three feet was one I’d never heard before. But, the people around me seemed to take it in stride. Mrs. Fairfax said they had a storm like this every few years up here. So, I, knowing I did not have to leave the house for any reason, relaxed and enjoyed the quiet echoes the blanket seemed to create coming up from the water. It was an easy thing to sit and watch the white illuminations of the Christmas lights.
Beyond that, there was nothing specific for me to worry about.
That is, there wasn’t when I could avoid the guests. But, the subtle digs and harassment of the ladies were a trial that awaited me that evening. Ms. Ingram seemed to enjoy the idea that I was so far beneath her. It was odd to me that if I was that low she would even pause to notice. And yet, it was like a subtle kind of sport for her where there was no need to sweat. To think that someone who had everything would feel the need to continually point out to someone who had nothing their differences.
And yet, it wasn’t the actual treatment that niggled at me. It was their causing me to appear lesser in front of Mr. Thorneton. That he sat there, watching the events play out as if they were nothing to him. Then, coming to me and tell me they were naught—as if he understood the hurtful disrespect and could dismiss it as easily.
The day wandered on. Adelia was in ecstasy as she was being allowed to visit Mr. Thorneton that afternoon with Sophie in his offices. I suspected he was keeping her from the ladies. Was it for Adelia’s benefit or theirs, I could not guess. Nonetheless, it was how he chose to have his visits with her.
The girls who had come in to help were in a fine mood that morning, waiting for me to join them in their gossiping. I put off my breakfast late enough to not deal with much, but made sure to arrive soon enough to not be accused of avoiding them.
I told, with much prompting, why I’d been called down the previous evening and how the time there had played out.
The girls laughed so hard Joan had milk come out her nose when I told them not one of the ladies had picked Micha and that I hadn’t broken the tie.
“Good for them,” Fiona added. “His ego’s bad enough. Let him think none of the models are swayed to think his face is pretty.”
We all paused, surprised at the venom with which she said it.
“What? He’s bossy, rude, elitist and knows he’s good looking.” She shrugged. “I’ve no need to dance around that.”
Before the girls could get into an argument about Micha’s hotness versus his personal attributes, Mrs. Fairfax rose, clapping her hands to get their attention, and sent them on their way.
I sat, finishing my tea and the leftover blueberry scones while she bustled around the kitchen, trying desperately to mind her own business.
“Was it truly that bad then?” she asked, her gaze studying my reflection closely in the kitchen window over the sink.
“Nothing unexpected.” I shrugged. It wasn’t my world and I was even more glad of that than ever.
“Well, that’s over then.” Mrs. Fairfax wiped her hands off on the dishtowel, and gave me a nod. “You’re a good girl, Jane. Mr. Thorneton must appreciate what you’ve done here for the house and for Adelia. That girl was stubborn chaos when you arrived. You’ve tamed her down as much as one could and got some English in her head at the same time.”
“Well, thank you,” I said, honestly surprised at the praise. I wasn’t used to it and Mrs. Fairfax wasn’t one to give it. “But, it’s not done. I’m expected in the library again tonight.”
“Again, you say?” She stopped her washing, and straightened to look at me. “Whatever for?”
“I wish I knew.” It was an honest answer, one that I felt more strongly than I showed as it was a long day worrying until the evening time came.
Chapter 29
That evening, I did not wear my simple black dress again. I had nothing as nice, but since it had done me no favors, I decided to dress more simply.
A knee length denim skirt, white blouse, and dark green cardigan. The nicest things I had for everyday wear. I was sure they would not pass muster, but I was more comfortable and less likely to look as if I were out to curry favor in them.
But the night’s surprises were beginning ahead of schedule.
As I dressed, giving myself plenty of time to sit and read to relax before having to head downstairs, there was a large boom that shook the house. The lightening was so near, the illumination of it lasted longer than our lights did as they, with a quick flicker, died.
I sat in the dark, listening to the voices and shouts echoing about the house, glad this was not my domain to repair. Throwing open my drapery, the light of the nearly full moon reflected off the soft white snow and lit the area with a comfortable glow that left me sitting there at ease.
Below and across the courtyard, lights started to appear in flickers and small beams, the cellphones, flashlights, and candles filling the darkness quickly against the powerlessness of the electric lights.
I wished this could be the excuse I needed to remain in my room, but I knew that would be a naïve assumption. Mr. Thorneton had said to make myself present, and so I must.
I waited above, listening as the women went up to their rooms after dinner to quickly freshen up and do whatever it was they did. Even in a power outage, I expected perfection—even of the warmer kind—was necessary for them. When the doors all closed a second time and their footsteps sounded tap-tap-tapping down the stairs, I counted to twenty then head down—more slowly than the tapping—to join them.
At the library door, Micha stood guard with a small electric lantern. I could not help but hope he was there to bar my entrance. To be sent back to my room would be seen as lowering, but I couldn’t help but feel it would be a magnificent escape.
“Ms. Jane, you’ll be joining us again this evening?” He asked, even though he knew the answer and was already holding the door open for me.
I couldn’t help but note the change in his address and saw it, as I hoped it was, as a type of truce on his ongoing battle to figure out my secret plan—which was frustrating since I had none.
“It appears so,” I said, waiting for clarification on what lay ahead.
Instead, he nodded his head and gave a small smile. “Fiona’s placed some soda in the bar for you. Feel free to make yourself a drink.”
While the idea of taking time at the small minibar set up in the corner didn’t sound thrilling, having something to do with my hands did, so I took his advice. Once I was seated, back in the same out of the way chair I’d been in the night before, Mr. Thorneton called for everyone’s attention.
I couldn’t help but think that we looked like a scene out of Clue with the candles and the rich people…no murder yet, but it was early.
“I have arranged for a special treat tonight.” He moved in front of the fire where candles lined the mantle, sparkling a backdrop for him. “One of the girls has asked her grandmother up to visit. And, while she is here, she’s agreed to read all of our cards. She is, from what I understand and old hand at it, telling fortunes as a girl back in Ireland. Now, Fiona tells me, she only does it for family and special occasions, but we’ve convinced her to read for you this evening.”
There was a general oohing and ahhing around the room. Micha came in from the butler’s hall, rolling his eyes at Mr. Thorneton’s extravagant wording. “Or to line her pocket,” he mumbled.
“I will
say this, “ Mr. Thorneton continued with a glare at Micha as if he hadn’t spoke. “I was a doubter, but she read my cards earlier today and—let’s just say it was extremely eye opening. She had clues to what my future holds and to what that may mean personally as well as for my business obligations.”
As he ended the statement, he turned and gave Ms. Ingram one of his rare smiles. She, seeing it and reading his intent as positive for her, preened under the attention, a little peacock showing all her feathers at once.
“And so, she drew a straw with each of our names on it to create the order she’ll read us in.” He glanced around the room. The ladies had all made their interest known but the men were less than thrilled. “Don’t worry, Didi is going first, so she’ll let you all know how painless it is.”
With that, Micha shifted back to the butler’s hall door and opened it, holding a small lantern in front of him. “This way.”
He gave her a comforting smile that if she were smart would have made her nervous. But, she hopped up and hurried forward, taking her drink and the blanket she’d wrapped herself in with her.
“Well.” Ms. Ingram sat back, obviously annoyed she was not the first for the treat.
“Don’t worry, darling.” Mr. Thorneton, pushed her hair out of her face and forced her to look at him. “You’ll get your turn.”
I watched as he touched her, annoyed that I could feel his hand on my own cheek as it had been last night.
Instead of focusing on that, I wondered why I was here. Why I had to be part of this nonsense. It wasn’t as if I had anything to add this evening and I doubted I was here to get my cards read.
It was such a novel idea. To have a woman come in just for your entertainment—and having your cards read felt so self-indulgent to me.
Of all the things I’d want as a treat, it would not have crossed my mind. There were things I needed that would be special before I spent my coin on this.
But, as it wasn’t my money—and I most likely was not going to be included—it bothered me not a bit.