John’s carriage stopped a few feet from the gate. He stepped down and spoke to his driver. Francesca wondered what he would do when she told him she knew of his deception. And that she wasn’t supposed to talk to him anymore. Would he stay at the zoo all that time by himself? If that were the case, then she’d have to leave. Because seeing him there, or anywhere, would break her heart.
“Francesca. Didn’t you hear me?”
She crossed her arms. “Yes. I heard you. And saw you.”
He frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“You might say that, Mr. Fairgate.”
“Mister… I thought we had agreed to—”
“Oh, there are several things I thought were something, but found out they were not.”
“I don’t understand. You’re talking in riddles. Here, let’s go inside.” He reached for her hand but she pulled away.
“No. I can’t. We can’t.”
“What is going on?”
She had to at least tell him why she couldn’t see him anymore. After that… Tears stung her eyes. Gesturing to a bench just outside the gate, she headed toward it. Hopefully Papa wouldn’t come out looking for her and see her with him. Or one of the other workers wouldn’t see her and tell Papa.
She sat down and waited. John walked toward her, slowly, never taking his eyes from hers. He sat down next to her and she scooted away, as far as she could without falling off.
“Francesca, please tell me what this is about. Last time we spoke I thought—”
“Last time we spoke, I did not know what you were.”
“What do you mean? You know what I am. An ornithologist.”
“And soon to be a baron?”
He sighed. “Oh. That.”
“Yes. That. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Honestly, I didn’t think it mattered. I didn’t think you valued… such things.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why are you upset?”
Realizing she’d have to explain further, she swallowed hard. Why couldn’t he make this easy? She’d hoped to simply tell him goodbye and walk away. Staying here, being near him, was killing her. “It’s something that—”
He reached for her hand, but she yanked it back.
“Francesca.”
“No. Please, just listen. I’ve never told you about my mother.”
“I assumed she had died and that it was too painful to discuss, so I never asked.”
“Painful, yes. Dead, no.”
“Oh, well, perhaps I could meet her sometime.”
“I’m afraid not. You will never meet her. And I will never see her again.” She glanced at him, taking in his dark eyes, full lips, and thick hair, with one lock falling slightly forward over his forehead. Holding her hands tightly in her lap to keep from reaching up to touch him, she looked away and forced herself to continue.
“You see, when I was nine years old, there was a man who frequented the zoo often. He and Mama talked quite a bit about the large cats. He was a benefactor of the zoo and gave donations, which helped out greatly.”
“All right. But I still don’t see—”
She held up her hand. “Papa didn’t see, either. Until it was too late. Mama ended up running off with this man. And never returned to us.”
“Oh, Francesca. How horrible for you. And you were so young.”
“Yes, it was horrible. It still is. But I haven’t told you the rest.”
“Go on.”
“Papa, of course, was heartbroken. His world nearly ended that day. I didn’t understand what had happened. At least, not as I do now that I’m older. But on top of the fact that Mama left us, it was who she left us for…”
He shrugged. “Who was it?”
“An earl.”
“An earl. Is this someone I should know?”
“Don’t you see that’s not the point?”
“I’m sorry, but I still don’t understand what this has to do with me. With us.”
“Because, from that day on, Papa hated anyone with a title. And forbade me associating with such people as well. Anyone with a title.”
His eyes widened. “Oh. Now I see.”
She stood, wanting to get the goodbye over with as soon as she could. “So, John Fairgate, I’m afraid this is farewell.” She turned quickly, not wanting him to see her tears.
He grabbed her arm to stop her. “Wait.”
She shook her head. Even the word no wouldn’t form on her lips.
“Francesca, please. There must be some way to… get around this problem.”
Shaking her head again, she pulled free, ready to go home. Away from him.
“Franny!”
Oh, no! “Papa?”
Her father marched toward them, his face as red as a strawberry. “Get away from my daughter, Mr. Fairgate. Or should I address you as baron?” The last word came out as almost a bark. Papa stood there, shaking in anger, arms stiff at his sides, hands formed into fists.
John held up a hand. “Sir, Mr. Hartwell, I can explain everything.”
“I have no wish to speak further with the likes of you. Of course, I cannot keep you from visiting the Tower, but I can forbid you contact with my daughter.”
“But, Mr. Hartwell—”
Francesca took a step forward. Just one. Any more than that and her father would have pounced. “John, please. Just…”
No further words came. Her throat closed as tears brimmed over her lids and trailed down her cheeks. She didn’t care. Didn’t even bother to wipe them away. Instead, she turned and began walking, then running, down the dusty street, toward their little house. Who cared if she ran, or if she wasn’t acting properly anymore? The one person whose opinion mattered was no longer allowed to matter.
At all.
Chapter Eleven
Heartbroken.
There was no other word to describe John’s condition. Several days had passed. The shock wore off, but the dull emptiness remaining within him never varied. He cared not for his study of birds. He couldn’t gather enough energy to converse much with his uncle. He even had not the will to fight off Miss Cartwright’s grabbing hands and clenching talons.
Why bother? Since he could not have an acquaintance with Francesca, everything else meant nothing. Less than nothing.
Yet somehow his steps took him to his carriage. The carriage to the Tower of Lions. His feet from the carriage to the main gate. Glancing up, he squinted at the sun as he passed the Middle Towers. What was he doing? Why subject himself to further misery?
Francesca was sure to be here. She’d been here almost every other time he had visited since they’d been introduced. Then why? Why come here, where she was sure to be?
He was not allowed to be with her, talk with her, stand near her. Yet… he couldn’t stand not to be in her vicinity. A pull stronger than he’d known a man could possess compelled him to the zoo. Dragged him to the very spot where he’d first made her acquaintance. Was he mad? A glutton for heartache?
Most assuredly so. A sane man would never allow such events to compel him. Did that make him insane, then? Or just in love.
Perhaps they were one and the same.
People were scattered about, peering in cages, discussing the weather, scolding wayward children. He passed them all without nod or acknowledgement. For he cared not what they were about, nor did he care what they thought of him.
John sighed. Now that he was here, his stomach clenched with nerves. What would he do if he stumbled upon Francesca? Or worse, her father? What would he say? The man had looked ready to pummel him with clenched fists the other day…
That awful day. When Francesca had told him she knew of his title. Why hadn’t he ever told her of it before? Had he been trying to hide something? No. He hadn’t hidden the title; it just meant so little to him in light of how he felt about Francesca that it hadn’t seemed important enough to mention at the time.
But… was he trying to hide the fact that Uncle Cleo wanted John to mar
ry Miss Cartwright? Probably yes. At least subconsciously. If Francesca had known that John was expected to marry someone else, she would never have even allowed them to become friends.
Even though they’d become more than that. Much more. The thought of Miss Cartwright being his wife was so repugnant that he’d pushed it away. Locked it in a closet to get it out of his sight. Had he thought she would just go away? That Cleo would forget the words he’d spoken so recently, that John must marry her and soon produce an heir?
A heavy sigh escaped his lips. If only… If only there was some way for him to marry Francesca. He’d gladly give up all else, if only he could have her by his side. As his wife. His love.
Brushed aside by a large group of people, John glanced around. How long had he just stood there, right inside the gate? Face warming, he started walking. He slowed to admire the cats and shook his head. Would this be the last time? Now that he was here, it seemed pointless to keep visiting.
Because Francesca could never be his.
Taking a final tour of the Tower of Lions seemed in order. These would be his final memories of the animals he’d come to so greatly admire. Stopping at each cage, he paused, taking in each animal’s form, color, size, and sound.
He reached Belle’s cage. The cat was curled up with her cubs around her, the babies sleeping. The leopard raised her head and looked at him. Directly into his eyes. John’s heart gave a start. Goodness! Is that what it was like for Francesca? To have an animal gaze into his eyes so deeply, it was as if she could view his very soul?
He swallowed, afraid to breathe. But not out of fear. Out of awe. Yes, he’d been frightened to his toes the day Belle had nearly attacked him. But seeing her now, so calm, so quiet with her cubs nestled around her, he knew… knew that the day when he’d fallen in her cage, she had only been upset because she was soon to give birth.
Belle blinked once, then lowered her head to her paws and looked away. The spell was broken. The moment gone.
He rubbed the back of his neck. How amazing that had been! Almost as if it had never happened. But it had. And he would forever treasure the experience. The connection to Francesca was stronger, even though matters between them remained as before.
Turning, he went to the next cage. And the next. Admiring the animal, watching his or her countenance and beauty. John was surprised he hadn’t come upon Francesca, but then, that must be for the best.
Or… perhaps she had seen him before now and had hidden, or left the zoo, intent on keeping her word to her father that she would no longer have anything to do with him.
Stepping around the corner, he headed toward the final few cages. Hardly anyone was in that section. Just a couple of people. A startled yelp caught his attention. He frowned. What was that man doing to—?
Francesca!
A disreputable-looking, dirty man stood behind Francesca and clutched her by the arms. He shoved her into a cage! John ran so fast that his hat tilted and flew off his head. He cared not. Something was wrong, and he had to help her.
Boots pounding, breath coming in gasps against a dry throat, John reached the open cage door and crowded behind the man. It was the bear’s cage.
“Unhand her! What do you think you are—”
The man jerked back. The back of his head smashed into John’s face. John fell to the ground, just outside the cage. Pain tore through his nose as blood spurted out. John saw red. But not from the blood. From pure, raw rage.
Jumping up, he lunged forward, grabbing the man’s coat collar. Yanking, he tried to pull the man away from Francesca.
She turned. “John! What are you—?”
The man slapped her across the face. She screamed. Voices from around the corner. Was someone coming to their aid? Francesca crumpled to the cage floor, hitting her head on the stone wall behind her. She let out a groan as her eyes closed.
“Francesca!” He pushed at the other man’s shoulder to shove him away, but the man was built like the Tower structure itself. Hard, cold, and indifferent.
The man grabbed John’s coat lapels and shoved. He landed on the cage floor next to Francesca. A quick glance showed the rise and fall of her chest. At least she was alive.
His glance flickered for the first time toward the huge brown bear. He’d been so intent on Francesca, he hadn’t given the smelly beast a thought! Squinting, he peered at the bear again. Why wasn’t it moving? Had the other man killed it? The bear was enormous! How had he managed to overpower it?
Climbing to his knees, intent upon giving the other man a sound thrashing no matter his size, John struggled to stand. More blood poured from his nose, his coat now quite saturated. “What have you done? If you’ve hurt her—”
The man jumped outside the cage and slammed the door. He tugged on the closed door a final time. “There. This time I won’t make the same mistake as the last. I drugged the bear’s meat. But not much. Just enough for me to get in and out. You’ll not have much time. Good luck, mate.” He laughed.
Turning, he hurried past the line of animals pacing and growling in their cages. Voices got louder as people hurried around the corner. Several shabbily-dressed men approached. Tower workers? They caught the villain. Held him tightly. A man in topcoat and hat pointed at him.
“Yes, that’s him. That’s the man I saw push those people into that cage.”
John slumped in relief. That scoundrel had been caught. Now he could see about getting himself and Francesca out of—
Grrrr.
John swallowed hard. He looked to his right.
Grrrr.
The bear was waking up! John widened his eyes. “Help! Someone unlock the door!”
One of the Tower workers let go of the man in custody, but he was too strong and started to break free. Shouts for help from the other workers brought the first back to hold the perpetrator.
Grrrr. The bear opened its beady dark eyes. Yellow fangs emerged from between its black lips.
John’s heartbeat raced. What should he do? There was no escape. “Help! Someone! We need to get out of here! The key! We need the key!”
“Get Mr. Hartwell!” yelled one of the workers who still fought to hold the grimy man.
“I’ll go.” A young boy ran around the corner, small boots hitting the ground in a rapid patter.
The bear sat on its haunches and shook its head from side to side. Was it trying to dislodge the last effects of the tainted meat? Climbing to all fours, it moved its head back and forth. But this time, its eyes were focused directly at John.
The animal licked its lips and let loose with a bellow that blew putrid air across the cage. John nearly gagged. A moan to his left pulled his gaze away from the bear.
“Francesca. Are you all right?”
She moaned again but didn’t open her eyes.
Claws scratched at the cage floor and John whipped his head toward the bear. Which now stood up on its hind legs.
Mouth now dry as a dusty road, John raised his head and glanced up, from the bear’s long sharp claws, to its massive belly and chest, to rest on its drooling, snarling mouth. The bear stepped forward, bellowing again.
John had to do something! Wiping blood away from his mouth with his hand, he stood, as well. Still several feet shorter than the bear. But he suddenly didn’t care what happened to him.
The beast could take his life.
But he must save Francesca!
As if the bear had heard John’s thoughts, it changed its focus from John to Francesca’s prone form on the cage floor. Raising its dark nose into the air, the bear sniffed as it tilted its head this way and that. Was it trying to decipher which smell was Francesca’s?
John had to do something before the bear attacked her. Taking a huge gulp of air, he let it out in a blood-curdling scream. The bear, startled, stopped sniffing for Francesca. It narrowed its eyes and bellowed back.
It was now or never. If John didn’t act now, Francesca might die! Not caring what happened to his body, his life, he lunged forward,
grabbing the bear’s furry arms, beating its chest and kicking its legs with his boots.
“You. Will. Not. Harm. Her!” John yelled and punched. And kicked and swore.
The bear, momentarily stunned, quickly overcame its confusion. Standing up to its full height, it leaned forward until its face was only a foot from John’s. It raised one massive paw, claws extended, and swung it forward.
John closed his eyes. “Goodbye, Francesca. I will always love you.”
Pain tore through his shoulder as his world went black.
****
John’s closed eyelids fluttered once, and then opened. How did he come to be in his own bedroom? The last thing he remembered was the zoo… Sudden pain shot through his shoulder, as if Belle’s sharp claws had connected with his flesh. But he hadn’t been in Belle’s cage.
“John, you’re back.”
Frowning, he stared at Francesca. “What are you doing here?” He tried to sit up, but pain tore through muscle and bone. Like white hot coals singeing his body. As he fell back on the bed, he moaned and grabbed his shoulder.
“Just lie still, John. The physician said you’ll be fine, but you need to rest until your shoulder heals.”
“But I don’t understand.” He squinted. Why couldn’t he remember anything? He’d visited the zoo for the last time. In his mind, he’d been saying goodbye to the animals and to her. But after that…
She leaned forward, her breath caressing his cheek. “Darling, do you remember the bear attack?”
Darling? Had he died and now floated in peaceful bliss with Francesca in heaven? But no, that couldn’t be. If that were so, his shoulder wouldn’t burn like a fiery furnace. “I…”
Francesca reached out and grabbed his other hand, caressing his skin with her thumb. “John, you saved me from that bear. You saved my life.”
“But…” Memories flashed into his mind. The man shoving Francesca into the cage. John trying to help her. Being locked in with the bear.
The bear!
The claws.
The fangs.
The bellow.
The stench.
The raised paw coming toward him.
Romance at the Royal Menagerie Page 11