by Georgie Lee
‘He’s doing what he believes best for you,’ Laura explained, despite the perplexed crease between her brows. Evidently, Philip’s behaviour baffled her, too. ‘He always has.’
‘I’ve decided what’s best for me and it’s Jasper.’ Jane dropped on to the sofa near the window.
Laura didn’t argue with her and Jane was almost disappointed. She craved a little vigorous debate. It wasn’t just Laura and Philip who were sceptical. She had her own doubts and they’d been nagging at her since they’d left the garden to speak with her brother. She wondered if there was anything about Jasper she should be concerned with. If there was, Philip was sure to sniff it out. Oh, how he irritated her; she wanted to rely on her own intuition and judgement and stop being dependent on his.
‘Mr Charton strikes me as a very charming and persuasive gentleman. I’m sure he’ll bring your brother around.’ Laura sat down beside her. ‘Though I do wonder how you two arranged all this in so short an amount of time.’
Jane stopped fiddling with the tassel on a pillow and stared at her sister-in-law. Do she and Philip know I slipped out with Jasper last night? No, it wasn’t possible. Philip’s men might be very astute and loyal to him, but they weren’t infallible, as Laura had proven when she’d crept in here. She hadn’t even had the advantage of Jane telling her the best way to do it. Since then, she’d won Philip’s heart and had helped him to move past the grief which had left him distant and closed off from everyone including, at times, her.
She wondered if she and Jasper might ever come to have a relationship like Philip and Laura’s. Love hadn’t been a part of their negotiations. Good. It was better if she never expected it as then she’d never be disappointed. Besides, she was too old to fantasise about romantic nonsense. Compatibility was more valuable than a passion, even if it dampened instead of ignited her heart. She’d believed in love once and maybe some small part of her still did. It didn’t matter. This was an excellent arrangement. She hoped Philip realised it, too. In the meantime, there was Laura’s scrutiny to address.
‘I chanced to meet Jasper while leaving Mrs Fairley’s yesterday afternoon. We had a very long discussion on the matter.’ It was a shady version of the truth, omitting the more scandalous details of his having slipped into her bedroom to spirit her away to a gambling hell in the middle of the night. She wondered if she should mention at least the leaving with him in the middle of the night part to force Philip’s hand. However, if he hadn’t marched her and Jasper up the aisle after the incident at the Chartons’, she doubted he’d insist on a marriage because of some late-night escapade. Philip was much too level-headed to act out of emotion, which further worried her about his conversation with Jasper. She hoped Jasper was managing well.
‘And what did you discuss with Mr Charton?’ Laura leaned forward in the same manner Mrs Hale used to do when she and Jane shared gossip. It was almost enough for Jane to drop her voice and tell her the truth, the way she used to with Laura’s mother. She missed the old intimacy, connection and friendship. It’d never come easy to Jane except with Mrs Hale, and Jasper, but not even they knew the darkest guilt she carried about her parents’ death, nor could she tell them about the hell. Jasper had sworn her to silence and she would be worthy of his faith in her.
‘We discussed his business and how I could help him with it.’ If Jasper was working to win Philip over, then Jane must do the same with Laura.
‘You two discussed business?’ Laura tilted her head in disbelief.
‘Your mother and Philip went to a great deal of time and trouble to teach me accounts, contracts and negotiations so I could some day help a husband manage his affairs. It’s time I finally put those skills to use instead of trimming roses and telling the housekeeper how to make sure the grocer doesn’t short-change us. I’m tired of being useless.’
This was as close to the truth of her and Jasper’s discussion as Jane was willing to venture.
‘I understand.’ Laura took Jane’s hand. ‘When my uncle sold my father’s draper shop and I was left with nothing to do every day, I almost went crazy. I was so accustomed to working, I couldn’t sit idle. I can only imagine how it’s been for you. I’m sorry I didn’t see it before or do more to help you.’
‘It isn’t your fault, it’s no one’s, except perhaps mine.’ Jane unclenched her fingers, wondering if she should have made an effort to speak with Laura sooner, but there were some things Jane couldn’t share with anyone. ‘Somehow, I’ve managed to drive good gentlemen, and one very bad one, away.’
Laura squeezed her hand. ‘Not at all. You’re simply discerning, like your brother, and you’ve been waiting for the right one. I think Mr Charton is perfect for you and I believe Philip will see it, too.’
Jane wasn’t as convinced of her desirability as Laura, nor of having been waiting for the right gentleman. If she had, it hadn’t been out of choice.
Footsteps in the hallway made them both rise and face the door. Philip entered first and Jane studied his face, searching for signs of an answer. The lines at the sides of his mouth were softer and the suspicious scrutiny previously hardening his blue eyes was gone.
Jasper convinced him!
Jasper strode in behind him as if his gambling house had received a massive win. He winked at her and Jane had to resist throwing her arms around his neck in congratulations. Instead, she returned the wink, blaming the racing of her heart on the thrill of them having succeeded. Though he would be her husband, she refused to view him as anything but a friend with more intimate benefits.
‘I give you both my consent to marry.’ Philip kissed her forehead in congratulation, as he used to when she was young and did well at her maths lessons, before she’d grown older and begun to rebel against him for reasons she still didn’t entirely understand. When he straightened, he took her hand and gave it to Jasper. ‘Mr Charton and I will speak tomorrow about drawing up the marriage contract and securing the common licence. You can wed as soon as the required seven days are past.’
Jane wondered what Jasper had said to convince Philip of the need for a quick marriage. With Milton, he’d insisted on a long engagement, giving Milton time to live up to Philip’s low expectations. Perhaps Philip now allowed the wedding to hurry because he was tired of looking after her and exhausted at having to talk sense into her. He was giving her to another man and relieving himself of the burden.
No, I shouldn’t be so uncharitable. Whatever her brother’s motives, there was no mistaking his tender expression, much like the one the elder Mr Charton sported whenever he mentioned his grandchildren. It eased a measure of her fears, as did Laura’s excitement.
‘Wonderful!’ Laura embraced Jane in congratulations. ‘You two will be very happy.’
Jane returned the hug and over Laura’s shoulder she caught Jasper’s eye. A strange awkwardness stiffened his movements as he shook Philip’s hand. She stepped away from Laura and Jasper let go of Philip. Jane and Jasper faced each other but his attention darted around the room with a tinge of uncertainty before he fixed on her. It was then the reason for his unease struck her. He might trust her with the secret of his gambling house, but there was another, darker one directly behind it, something to do with the things he couldn’t tell her about Savannah. It reminded her too much of Milton and how he’d managed to conceal his relationship with Miss Moseley. Worry dampened her enthusiasm. Once the parson’s mousetrap was sprung, they’d be stuck with one another for better or for worse. In her haste to change her situation, she wondered if she’d inadvertently made it worse.
* * *
Jasper sat at his desk in the warehouse office, dealing with an order for wine, but the memory of Jane continued to dominate his thoughts. Perceptive as always, she’d realised at once that they were going to be man and wife. She’d also caught his momentary doubt while he’d shaken Mr Rathbone’s hand. It had caused her to retreat into a reserve making her resembl
e her brother. He’d wanted to tell her his concerns had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him, but there hadn’t been a chance.
He slipped the ruby ring off his finger and turned it over and over. In Savannah, he’d spent years collecting money, property and influence, and in the end it had been worthless. In London it was different and yet it wasn’t. Money made the difference between having a proper life or doing without. All he needed to do was look at his footmen and dealers to see how wages had lifted them out of poverty and given them and their families the chance to thrive instead of merely subsist. Once Jasper had wed Jane, she would become his responsibility. If Jasper lost everything to some extremely lucky gambler, or if their families learned of the hell and turned their backs on them, it would be like Savannah all over again. Except, this time, there’d be no family or inheritance or collected goods to help him start over. They’d be ruined and he’d be the cause of it.
‘A right lucrative night last night, Mr Charton,’ Mr Bronson greeted Jasper as he entered the secret warehouse office. The older man drew out his vowels in the lazy way people from Savannah did. Jasper had found it amusing during his first year in the bustling port city, the easy manner of speech slipping into his own so that a few years into his apprenticeship his accent had become too garbled for anyone to guess where he was really from. It’d given him an air of mystery in Savannah, charming the ladies during garden parties at the big plantations. It had made him stand out here, too, as his seventeen-year-old twin brothers Giles and Jacob enjoyed teasing him about during family dinners. He’d struggled to lose the languid manner of speaking, but now he was snapping his vowels in place as day by day he left his time in the southern state behind. He wished his past and his concerns were so easily set aside. ‘What about Captain Christiansen. How did he do?’
‘Lost another five hundred pounds before we sent him home.’ Mr Bronson handed over the man’s signed debt, then dabbed his forehead with his red handkerchief, the warm room making him perspire.
Jasper slipped the ruby ring back on his finger as he examined Captain Christiansen’s name scrawled at the bottom of the paper. ‘Seems like more than a man who hasn’t taken a prize ship in a while can afford to lose.’
Mr Bronson strode to the window and slid up the sash. The cooler air laced with warmth from the coming summer spilled into the room. ‘Didn’t go quietly this time either, complained loudly about having a right to spend what he wants.’
‘Not in my establishment, especially if he’s going to make a scene. Scenes aren’t good for business.’ Jasper stared out the open window and the early morning sky dotted with thick clouds. The fresh air wasn’t refreshing so much as unsettling. ‘If he returns tonight, keep an eye on him. Hopefully, his current losses will encourage him to be more cautious with his play.’
‘And if they don’t?’
‘We may have to find a discreet way to bar him from the club. We don’t need Lord Fenton coming in here trying to redeem his son.’
Mr Bronson hooked his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets. ‘Don’t get y’all scraping to those sallow-faced men. Be better if you’d chucked them out like we Americans did.’
‘Some days I agree with you, but old habits are difficult to break.’ Jasper dusted his signature, then blew it off and handed Mr Bronson the papers.
‘Yes, they are.’ Mr Bronson rolled the debts in his hands. ‘How many old habits are you going to give up when you have a wife nosing about?’
‘None. She’ll simply accompany me to the jeweller’s and the theatre and help me enjoy my fine wine and food while working with me to establish the club.’ Jasper leaned back in his chair, far less cavalier than he appeared. Jasper had told his partner about his plans before he’d approached Jane and now silently agreed with him. Once Jasper and Jane were living together as man and wife, he’d have to balance what he told her about the hell with what he held back, giving her just enough to satisfy her interest while keeping her ignorant of all the goings on. It would mean more deception, but it was necessary. He couldn’t stand to have Jane spit on him like Mrs Robillard had when Jasper had approached her with his condolences. ‘Better to be a married man than risk becoming a recluse.’
‘You don’t need a wife to avoid that.’ Mr Bronson chuckled. ‘You have a cook and a housekeeper and more willing company in other corners to see after your needs.’
‘True, but how many of those paid people stayed around to help Uncle Patrick after he fell ill?’
‘We don’t have to worry about that here in London.’
Jasper touched the edge of the bills of mortality tucked beneath his blotter. ‘I hope not, but there are other tragedies capable of befalling a man and leaving him in need of someone with more interest in his affairs than payment to step in and handle them.’
‘I thought that’s what you had me for.’ Mr Bronson laughed. He removed a pouch of tobacco from his waistcoat pocket along with a clay pipe and began to pack the bowl with the fragrant weed.
‘I do, but relations are sometimes more reliable.’ Jasper wouldn’t fail Jane the way Mr Robillard had failed his wife. ‘I also know you Yanks. You’ll want your own establishment sooner rather than later, to make something of yourself, to be your own man.’
‘You are right, Mr Charton.’ Mr Bronson pointed the stem of the pipe at him before setting it between his teeth. ‘I’ll have to strike out before you expect me to take a missus.’
‘I wouldn’t dare temper your excursions into the West End by suggesting such a thing.’ Jasper waved his hand in the air to indicate the future. ‘At least not yet.’
Mr Bronson took a deep drag on his pipe, then let the smoke out of the side of his mouth. ‘Have you told her about Mrs Robillard?’
‘No.’ A breeze rustled the curtain, carrying into the room the faint scent of summer. Jasper rounded the desk and slammed the sash closed. ‘You’re not to tell her.’
‘You can trust me to keep silent. I’ve been where you are, what with my father, God rest him, being a preacher and railing on about the ills of drink and cards. He’d have starved before taking my money if he’d learned how I really earned it.’ Mr Bronson fingered the watch chain hanging in an arch from his pocket to where his father’s timepiece hung from a button. ‘No reason a lady has to hear about such ugliness.’
Mr Bronson touched the rolled debts to his forehead in a kind of salute, then turned on the heels of his fancy boots, the best his money could buy in London, and strode out of the room.
Jasper rested his hands on the back of one of the pair of shield-backed chairs near the window and took in the room. He should return to work. There was a great deal to be done now the Fleet Street building would be available, and Jane had given him new ideas, but he couldn’t. He stared at the fire burning in the grate. Summer was slowly descending on the city, bringing with it unknown threats. His hands were tight on the carved wood and the edge of the fancy decoration bit into his palms. Yellow Jack couldn’t touch him or anyone here, but it didn’t mean some other pestilence might not come in with the summer wind and snatch away what remained of his peace of mind. Except it wasn’t really disease he feared here as much as his own failings.
He left his office and entered the quiet of the gaming room. The smell of tobacco smoke, stale wine, sweat, hope and desperation hung thick in the air along with the dust motes. Everything had been set to rights, the chips stacked neatly at the tables, the packs of cards beside them fresh and ready to be opened by the dealers tonight. The Hazard wheel sat silent, too, the white balls lined up and waiting to click into place as men cheered and spent their money.
Jasper picked up a Hazard ball and rolled it between his fingers. He pitied many of the players, especially those like Captain Christiansen who rushed into forgetfulness through the cards. Jasper wondered what horrors Captain Christiansen had seen during his time at sea and if those memories drove
him to recklessness the way they’d driven Jasper to return to this life.
He gripped the Hazard ball tight, his sins pressing down on him. There’d been many times before the epidemic when he’d begun to question this profession, but he’d ignored his doubts. Wealth, influence, standing, his uncle’s pride and his own had drowned out the voice of his conscience. Mr Robillard’s pistol shot had silenced the gaiety and left his conscience screaming. It still did and yet he’d come crawling back to this life the moment he’d set foot in England.
He set the ball down beside the others and, winding his way through the tables, left the gaming room, avoiding his reflection in the gilded mirror across the room. He didn’t have the stomach to face the real Jasper, the one he hid from Jane and everyone, the ugly crooked thing his uncle had made him and he’d willingly become.
He locked up the upstairs rooms and left through the main warehouse. In the cavernous space, employees he paid well to keep quiet among their dockworker brethren unloaded shipments of wines, cards, food and other goods for tonight. The activity made his establishment appear like all the others crawling with carts and horses, with drivers and men calling to one another to shift about the various merchandise coming and going. Outside, the rising sun just touched the peaked tops of the buildings. Soon it would be higher and cast light into the deep shadows between the warehouses, further tanning the already ruddy faces of the men streaming in and out of the district as they went about their morning work.
Usually the bustling activity invigorated Jasper, but not this morning. He was pulling Jane into the mire by asking her to keep this secret the way Uncle Patrick had asked him to keep his. How long until he corrupted her the way he’d been corrupted?
No, I won’t let that happen. They’d work hard on the club during the day, and he’d see to it they enjoyed themselves at night, both in town and in bed. She would remain ignorant of the true business of the hell until he could finally part with it.