Jack on the Box

by Patricia Wynn

  “Of course I will, Jack,” she said, moving closer and giving him her hand. “What is it?”

  He took the tiny hand in his and squeezed it before releasing it. “I thought it best to let Alfred make the announcement that the will had been found at Stourport,” he confessed. “He has already contacted your father’s solicitor and notified him of its existence.”

  “But—!” Sir Waldo jerked up in protest from his pillows.

  Jack held up one hand to silence him. “Please, Sir Waldo. Listen to what I have to say before you make any judgement. I was just trying to avoid another scandal. It seemed to me that this would be the best way to do it.”

  “But you are going to let that scoundrel go scot-free! “ he exclaimed, still not appeased.

  “Not exactly,” Jack said. “In exchange for this opportunity to save his honour, whatever it’s worth, Alfred has agreed to renounce the title, Baron of Stourport. That ought to open the way for Cecily, or at least her heirs, to regain it at some time.”

  Sir Waldo lapsed into silence, while he reflected on this new development. Cecily’s expression revealed the enormous release this was for her, but she smiled sadly at Jack nonetheless.

  “And what will become of Alfred, Jack?” she asked.

  Jack grinned guiltily. “I hate to admit this in front of your grandfather, but I’ve another suggestion to make.”

  Sir Waldo laughed gruffly. “Want Cecily to set him up in his new position, probably. What’s it to be? Archbishop of Canterbury?”

  “Nothing quite so glorious, sir,” Jack said, laughing. “But I do think she might make him an allowance, enough to keep him abroad and out of her way. He’s agreed to leave the country provided he has something to live on. Your father’s man of business ought to be able to draw something up,” he said to Cecily. “You should never be bothered by him again.”

  “It sounds to me as if Alfred’s bargaining, Cecy,” inserted her grandfather. “I wouldn’t enter into any agreement with that scoundrel if I were you.”

  She smiled at Sir Waldo and gave Jack a grateful nod. “It will be terribly worth it to me, Grandpapa, never to see Alfred again. You needn’t fear I shall indulge him too much.”

  “That’s a good girl,” Jack said, unable to keep the warmth from his tone. “I wouldn’t want to see you deep in another round of court battles. I know you have had enough of such scenes.”

  Cecily gave a little shudder. “No, thank you. Yes, you are right. I had much rather make Alfred a small annuity than to drag us all up before the courts again. It’s time to get on with my life.” These last words seemed to recall her to Jack’s intentions, and she scanned his face for any sign. He refused to divulge anything, however, so she lowered her gaze and moved once again to the bedside.

  “And Sudbury?” she asked to cover her hesitation. “I suppose he will go free as well?”

  “Yes,” admitted Jack. “But do you know,” he added with a laugh, “I think Alfred has every intention of taking him on again. He does not go on very well without a valet, and Sudbury suits him quite nicely. They really are two of a kind. Sudbury might prefer another situation, but he’s not likely to get one without references. When I left them, they were settling back into their old pattern of master and servant. I had a hard time of it to keep from laughing, but I thought it best not to disturb their newfound harmony. It is only fitting that they should contemplate their exile together. One cannot envy them.”

  This image did much to restore Sir Waldo’s good humour, but a thought occurred to him at that moment which addressed the others’ secret concerns.

  “And what about you now, Jack? I would like to invite you to stay on with us a while longer. You can hardly think of leaving after doing so much for us.” He looked back and forth from Jack to Cecily with a curious frown.

  Jack stopped smiling. He could hardly keep his eyes from traveling to Cecily’s face, and he knew she was regarding him intently.

  “Thank you, Sir Waldo,” he said. “But I cannot alter my plans. I must resume my work or run the risk of losing it.”

  Sir Waldo looked at him in dismay and spoke again in a weakened voice. “Stay on with me, my boy. If your father don’t want you, that won’t matter. I would be proud to have you as my guest.”

  Jack’s firm gaze faltered at the sound of emotion in the old man’s voice. “I . . . I thank you most sincerely, Sir Waldo. That is the greatest compliment you could pay me. But it will not do. I must regain my father’s good opinion or I cannot have any opinion of myself.” He glanced over at Cecily as he said these words and saw the sadness in her expression. In spite of it, however, she appeared to understand.

  All at once, he realized how exhausted he had been by the day’s events. Drawing in a deep breath, he turned again to Sir Waldo and begged to be excused.

  “I must be off in the morning,” he told him. “And I have not had a wink of sleep for two days.”

  Sir Waldo extended a feeble hand by way of farewell and thanked Jack once again for all he had done for his granddaughter. Jack made a slight movement towards Cecily as if to bid her farewell, but she did not look at him. After a moment’s hesitation, he said goodbye softly and stepped out the door.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As soon as the door closed behind him, Cecily excused herself from her grandfather and quickly left the room. In a moment, she had caught up with Jack in the corridor and had thrown herself into his arms.

  “Oh, little love, you mustn’t,” he said in an anguished voice, kissing the top of her head and stroking her hair.

  “I don’t care,” she said. She raised her face to his and looked at him defiantly.

  It was all he could do not to crush her in a desperate embrace.

  “I refuse to say goodbye to you in such a public way. I will not be forced into pretending it does not matter.”

  Jack laughed shakily. “Is the hallway any more private than your grandfather’s room?” he asked, deliberately teasing.

  Cecily blushed at that, but a quick look round satisfied her that no servants were witnessing her bold behaviour. Jack gently removed her arms from about him, but retained her hands in his as he looked down at her earnestly.

  “You do understand, don’t you, Cecily? You know why I must go?”

  Her gaze faltered, but she nodded. He could sense the tightness in her throat, for it matched his own.

  She spoke in a constricted voice. “I do. But I could not let you go without telling you that I . . . without knowing whether . . .”

  Jack clasped her to him once again. If he was not certain of having already given himself away, he might not have answered. But he could not leave her wondering if her affection was returned.

  “I love you, Cecily. But that is not enough. If I knew if and when my father would take me back as his son, it might be possible. But not knowing when, or even if . . .”

  She raised her face again. He was glad to see that the confession he had just made had restored the confidence in her bearing. “I understand,” she said. “But you must also understand that it does not matter to me whether you are Mr. Henley or Jack the Coachman, for I love you with all my heart.”

  It took all of Jack’s character not to respond to this declaration as he yearned to do, but instead, he resolutely put her from him.

  “You must promise me one thing, Cecily. That you will not remain here on my account. That you will take up your residence at Stourport and live as you should have been living, if Alfred had not robbed you of your fortune.”

  “My grandfather needs me here,” she answered evasively, “and I have no other companion.”

  “You can hire a companion!” Jack protested. Then he said in a voice devoid of all hope, “I can be certain of nothing. You must not expect me to come back.”

  Cecily lifted her chin high in the air and reminded him, “I have not asked you to promise me anything. And if I choose to go on living here for the time being, then that is my own affair.”

  Jac
k gave up his protest and nodded in defeat. Then he released her hands. Cecily was watching him sadly, with eyes rapidly filling with tears. He longed to take her into his arms again for one last kiss, but knew that would weaken him beyond all control. With a hasty goodbye, then, he turned and strode quickly from her, resisting the temptation to look back.

  In the morning he rose early and left before anyone else was out of bed.

  * * * *

  Using the earnings he had not yet spent, Jack returned to Birmingham and, after a short wait, took up his old ground on the Birmingham to London mail. He was grateful to have obtained his former position, not merely for the familiarity with which he was greeted by his old acquaintances, but because Davies was still a guard on this route. Only Davies, Jack felt, had some understanding of the disappointment he had just experienced. Not a word was exchanged between the two men about it, but Jack took comfort from the fact that Davies had at least seen Cecily, and had a high regard for her. Jack’s own change in spirit was enough to reveal much to the guard, for no matter how much he succeeded in concealing the pain in his heart, there were times when he could not prevent it from showing in his eyes.

  Three months of hard work followed his departure from the manor of Sir Waldo Staveley. During this time, Jack did not once permit himself to write to either Cecily or her grandfather, nor did he receive a word from them. It was a great temptation to ask after “the folks up at the manor” when he passed through Hockley Heath, but he resisted. He reasoned that if Sir Waldo had need of him, he knew very well where to find him. But Cecily must not be reminded of his existence if she had chosen to forget her mail coachman. Whenever they passed through the village, Jack never even looked about for a glimpse of them, though his grim visage was the eventual clue that led Davies to divine the whole.

  After three months were up, Jack received a simple summons from his father. The reception of the note caused his heart to beat with anticipation, but he cautioned himself not to assume a reconciliation was nigh. His father might have decided to call him for a number of other reasons. Jack hoped it was not respecting an emergency in his mother’s or his father’s health. In any case, presuming nothing, Jack consulted with the mail contractor, Mr. Waddell, and got his permission for a short leave to call upon his parents.

  It seemed very strange to be riding up to his old house on a horse hired in the village. Somehow he had lost his sense of familiarity with the old manor, although he could see that it had not changed. The yew trees still grew right up to the carriageway in front; the ground sloped off in the back to the hay fields and the kitchen gardens. The house itself seemed smaller, but finer than he had been used to thinking it. A surge of pride strangely mingled with humility filled him as he beheld its sturdy Jacobean bricks.

  Sir Geoffrey’s butler greeted him at the door with ill-disguised joy. Only his amour propre and respect for his station prevented him from giving vent to his feelings on the occasion of the prodigal son’s return. With a stiff back, and permitting himself only a small smile, he bowed Jack into his father’s library. Lady Henley was nowhere to be seen.

  As Jack entered the room, Sir Geoffrey rose from his desk. There was an anxious look on his face, and he seemed to have aged since Jack last saw him. For a moment Jack feared that all was not well, and that his mother’s ill health was the reason for his summons, but his father’s first words reassured him.

  “So you’ve come back, Jack,” Sir Geoffrey said. He smiled with a touch of embarrassment, at the same time letting loose a deep breath. Jack realized at once that his father had feared he would not respond to his call.

  “Of course, Father,” he answered easily. “You sent for me.”

  “Yes, well . . .” Sir Geoffrey waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, as if that worry were now behind him. “I thought it was time we had a talk. Will you be seated?” He indicated a chair in front of him while his expression grew faintly anxious again.

  Jack smiled and sat down. He had not been invited to sit on his last visit to this room, he recalled.

  Sir Geoffrey cleared his throat and took a chair facing his son. Then he began, “I received a letter some time ago from a Sir Waldo Staveley . . .”

  Jack’s head flew up. “Is Cecily—” he began “—Miss Wolverton—well? Has anything happened to her grandfather?”

  But Sir Geoffrey had lifted a hand to put his mind at ease. “No, it’s nothing like that, my boy. He does not mention anything of that nature. His letter was to inform me of the service you rendered Miss Wolverton during your stay in Warwickshire.”

  Jack sat back much relieved. “Oh, that. Yes,” he said.

  His father looked at him strangely. “Is that all you have to say about it?” he asked. “You restore a fortune to an heiress, the daughter of a peer, taking your life in your hands to do it, and all you can say is, ‘Oh, that? ‘“

  Jack grinned self-consciously. His father’s exasperated tone amused him greatly. “What would you have me say?” he inquired with a shrug.

  Sir Geoffrey did not answer him immediately. He got to his feet and walked a time or two about the room, glancing up at Jack occasionally from under his brows. Finally he stopped and asked Jack abruptly, “Why did you not come to me and tell me of this, my boy?”

  At first, Jack did not understand him, but something in his father’s grave expression made him reply with the gentle question, “Would you have taken me back if I had?”

  Sir Geoffrey sighed. He seemed at once pleased and saddened by Jack’s reply. “Would you have understood,” he countered, “how hard it would have been for me not to?”

  After a pause, he continued, “Jack, Sir Waldo made himself quite clear about his opinion of my conduct in expelling you from the house. I have been holding this letter for the past three months, wondering if you would come to me and use this information to get back in my good graces. But you did not come!”

  Jack said nothing. Now he understood that his father’s sadness was for trusting his own son so little. He looked ruefully down at his hands. His thoughts flew to Cecily and what she might have been doing these three months. She could be in London for all he knew, gaily enjoying the Season.

  “You are in love with Miss Wolverton?” The question came at him suddenly, and he lifted his head in surprise.

  It was Sir Geoffrey’s turn to grin. “Sir Waldo has been open with me about more than one matter!”

  Jack’s eyes lit with a sparkle. “Yes,” he answered simply.

  “And you would have her for your wife?”

  Jack nodded. “But only,” he said, “if I could offer her an honourable name.”

  Sir Geoffrey puffed out his chest, cleared his throat, and took a deep breath. His voice was free of the huskiness it had held a moment before. “The name Henley is the most honourable in the land, Jack. I don’t see how she could refuse you. Now, I want you to step upstairs and say hello to your mother. She’s been fretting to see you these many months. Then, after you notify Mr. Waddell that you will no longer be in his service, I want you to bring your Cecily here to present her to us.”

  Jack could hardly believe the rapidity with which his father had settled his future, but he sprang willingly from the chair. “Does that mean I am fully restored to the family?”

  Sir Geoffrey’s extra years seemed to have slipped away as he answered, smiling, “Of course, you young jackanapes. Do you think I would invite your young lady here and then put you in the servants’ quarters? You had better hurry before she decides to marry somebody else.”

  Jack sobered, but he was still not recovered from the suddenness of the change in his circumstances. He remembered one more thing that must be settled. “I will bring her here and marry her, if you will let me help you manage the estate.”

  Nothing he could have said could have pleased Sir Geoffrey more. “All right, my boy, if you insist. Now hurry along.”

  Jack needed no further prodding, but bounded up the stairs to his mother’s tearful embrace. There
, he tarried for another half hour until she consented to release him, before flying back downstairs to ask his father for the curricle. Sir Geoffrey gave his consent, but to his surprise, Jack did not go upstairs to change, but strode rapidly towards the door.

  “Here, boy!” Sir Geoffrey called anxiously after his son. “You do not mean to go after her dressed as a coachman, do you?”

  Jack laughed back over his shoulder at his father’s sudden demur. “I haven’t the time to change, Father. Besides, she might not recognize me if I looked too respectable!”

  * * * *

  The next morning, Cecily was interrupted as she was reading aloud to Sir Waldo. Mr. Selby entered and stood before her with a pained expression on his face.

  “What is it, Selby?” her grandfather asked, noting the unmistakable signs of disapproval in his valet’s demeanour. “Nothing to do with the stables, is it?” Sir Waldo knew his valet’s feelings with respect to the outside servants, and suspected the groom had requested to see him.

  “No, sir,” Selby answered with a sniff. “I have come with a message for Miss Wolverton. It would seem that Mr. Jack has come around to the front door and is asking for a word with her. He suggested she might like to join him for a ride in his curricle.” Selby had alighted on this manner of addressing Jack since he could not bring himself to accord him full status.

  Cecily had jumped to her feet at the sound of Jack’s name, but she recollected herself enough to pause and turn to her grandfather for his permission. Sir Waldo was regarding her with an expression of profound satisfaction.

  “Young Jack’s turned up, has he?” he said to no one in particular. “Well, you had best get dressed for a ride then, Cecy. I doubt he’ll want to be kept waiting.”

  Cecily blushed and was about to fly to her room for a bonnet, when Selby stopped her temporarily by clearing his throat.

  “Pardon me, Sir Waldo,” he ventured, “but there is, perhaps, one small matter I ought to mention.”